


In My Place

by keeperofthemoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ginny's gotten better at hiding when shes crushing, Quidditch teammates, but everyone else is way too nosey, or Draco's just oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-08 15:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 68,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofthemoon/pseuds/keeperofthemoon
Summary: A thought came to mind: this was not how Draco expected his week to go, babysitting a werewolf's child with the help of a Weasley. What had he done to deserve this?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! 
> 
> In My Place was written for the Summer '17 fic exchange over at the Draco/Ginny forum. The prompt will be posted at the end of the chapter! Many thanks to my beta, dwellingindreams, for helping me with this!

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Friend:

 _Noun_ | \\`frend\

1\. a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.  
2\. a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter.  
3\. a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile.  
4\. Draco Malfoy

)*(*)*(

It had been Hermione Granger who had realized twice what was going on with Ginny Weasley before she had, though that came as no real surprise since Hermione always seemed to be the first person to figure anything out. Really, Ginny should’ve attempted to be more discreet with what was going on in her life that her family wasn’t necessarily privy to. 

But she hadn’t been.

The first moment of realization Ginny was sure she would remember for the rest of her life, if only because she couldn’t believe how incredibly oblivious she had been. She had planted a seed that promised chaos and confusion and allowed it to grow—not only that, but had nurtured it and grown rather fond of it. 

But, really, one had go to the beginning to understand any of that.

)*(*)*(

Twenty-one years old and finally bumped from reserves, Ginny was officially a Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados. It had been hard work, to say the least. She had joined the team when she was twenty, having needed time after Hogwarts to get her head straight and figure out what exactly she wanted. 

Though never playing a game that first year for the Tornados, she had been forced to deal with the heavy corruption of the coaches and owners. They were more involved with betting on their players than actually training them, resulting in multiple injuries and a lack of unity among the team. Thankfully, the Department of Magical Games and Sports realized what was going on before the season was up and, though the Tornados were fined heavily and not allowed to finish out their games, put an end to it. Harry had told her the whole situation reminded him of Ludo Bagman and his past gambling. Ron had informed her rather rudely that he always knew the Tornados were cheaters and their fans could all bugger off—though, of course, he hoped it would work out better for her in the upcoming season.

New coaches and owners replaced the corrupt ones. Players were traded. Ginny stayed and was officially promoted to Chaser. The influx of new players was something Ginny had looked forward to; she had never bonded with her old teammates and they hadn’t won many games. Perhaps with the new players and staff the team would actually have a chance.

Her hopes were dashed right away.

With each new player that was picked up for the team, Ginny realized with dismay that almost all of them were foreign. Apparently none too many professional Quidditch players from England wanted to attach themselves to a team that only a year before had been slandered by the press as crooked and immoral; so the owners had looked outside of Britain. Only a few of the new players spoke English but seemed hard pressed to actively use it and, when they did, they only asked Ginny about Harry Potter.

Her only hope had been the Seeker position that had yet to be filled.

And, a week before training for the new season officially began, someone took up the spot. Ginny could still remember seeing him walk into the meeting room, lips set in a firm frown and eyes hard.  
Draco Malfoy.

She had been baffled and angry. Him? The coaches chose _him_? Even if they ignored the fact that he had been only a subpar Seeker at Hogwarts, they couldn’t be oblivious to the fact that he fought for Voldemort during the Final Battle. Rage built in her stomach to the point that she was sure she was either going to vomit or lash out. At the end of the meeting, one of the coaches took her aside to explain.

He had been the best candidate, plain and simple. And they didn’t take bringing him on the team lightly. But didn’t she want to win? Didn’t she want the best of the best for the team?

And Ginny _did_. She wanted to win this season, to show everyone that there was talent on the team.

They didn’t acknowledge each other for the first two weeks of training. Ginny had been firm in her stance that she would be utterly professional with him unless he provoked her. Even if she viewed him no higher than dung, she could at least put up a front of coolness. She didn’t need to be his friend. But she did need to be his teammate. 

Which was why it had been increasingly hard not to speak to him throughout training. Okay, yeah, he was a good Seeker. But Ginny had played that position for a handful of games at Hogwarts when Harry, George, and Fred had been kicked off the team (ironically, courtesy of Malfoy) and she saw him hesitating far too much in the air. It was annoying to watch and no one was willing to call him out on it.

And… if she was being honest with herself, it had more to do than that. All her teammates were interested in discussing with her was Harry and their relationship and his many achievements throughout his life. While Ginny was used to this while she was in public it was rather difficult to get used to at work. There was no rushing away from the questions like normal, no way she could fake a smile and ignore them, and very little hiding of the fact that she wanted to scratch out her eyes—or, preferably, theirs—when they spoke to her about him.

The only other person who actually knew Harry on the team was also the only other person who _didn’t_ want to talk about him.

She found herself ignoring the boundaries that she and Malfoy had put up the longer she was forced to endure her other teammates’ questions. Though she never spoke to Malfoy, Ginny knew that he kept a steady eye on her and saw what was beginning to happen. Instead of sitting beside her other teammates, she went and sat closer to him. Rather than endure everyone’s questions about Harry, she lingered by him, hoping they wouldn’t venture near. It was the third time she sat down beside him at a meeting, though there was plenty of space between them, that he had gone rigid. Then, after the meeting was done and everyone had cleared out except for the both of them, he had threatened her to _stay the fuck away from him_.

It had been like a switch flipped inside of her, reminiscent of their school days together.

Her illusion of professionalism and coolness shattered. Whenever they were within arm’s length of each other they were fighting. Admittedly, it was over the stupidest things. They both stayed away from the topic of the war, a silent agreement between them that Ginny hadn’t realized they reached, but it left everything else free game. He mocked her for her fame that he hinted came only because of her relationship with Harry and she shouted about his flaws on the pitch. When Malfoy wondered out loud if her family was still living in a barn she retorted that his insults were lacking.

When they passed each other in the locker room, they fought. If they flew by each other on the Quidditch pitch, harsh words were exchanged. Team meetings consisted of them whispering jabs at each other from the corner of their mouths. While it was exhausting to fight all the time, it also strangely gave Ginny something to look forward to. Malfoy was familiar and sharp, keeping her on her toes whenever she was in his presence.

Ginny appreciated that, in some odd sense.

It wasn’t till training was almost done, and the season was officially about to start, that the coaches approached them both and practically begged for some type of peace between them. They were teammates, the coaches insisted, and needed to start acting like it—after all, between the two of them, they carried the team. To be paired together with Malfoy like that had been startling to say the least. 

They stopped fighting, sort of. Instead of fighting with each other, they bitched and moaned about everything else. They bickered about the ugly uniforms that were chosen for them. They debated about who was the worst player on the team (though Draco enjoyed this game much more than Ginny did). They shared looks across the room when the coaches offered half sincere compliments on a horrible game. When the Keeper missed an easy throw, they threw each other exasperated looks across the pitch. 

The Tornados didn’t make it close to the playoffs that year. Season done, Ginny and Malfoy didn’t speak until several months later when trades began among the Quidditch league. Ginny signed onto another year with the Tornados, and curiosity got the better of her. Would Malfoy be signing on for another year too? The Tornados were far from good, but she had a certain loyalty to them. Did he also?

She knew most of the team had opted out of staying with the Tornados and that the coaches were looking for replacements. But she hadn’t known about Malfoy’s status. One night, after several glasses of wine and more than one glance at the blank rolls of parchment on her desk, Ginny sat down and wrote to Malfoy. It was simple and straight to the point.

_Malfoy,_

_Joining the Tornados for another year?_

_G._

The next day, when she woke up from her stomach churning with too much wine, she saw on her window sill a lovely black owl waiting for her attention. A letter, short and simple like her own, was attached to its leg.

_Weasley,_

_Desperate for my company?_

He hadn’t even signed it, bloody bastard. But it had been a confirmation for Ginny nonetheless. A few weeks later, when training started, Malfoy walked into the locker room, opened a locker beside Ginny, and unpacked his bag.

That had been almost two years ago.

It hadn’t been till after her third season had ended, and Ginny was spending time with Hermione, that she realized the seed planted when Malfoy first joined the Tutshill Tornados had grown. And it had been, unsurprisingly, Hermione who pointed it out. They had been spending time at the Burrow together as Ron and Harry haunted a local pub. The four of them hardly hung out in a group anymore, ever since Harry and Ginny officially split, but they liked to keep up appearances for Molly and Arthur.

Ginny had been recounting a story about how Malfoy had been hit in the ribs by a Bludger, the force of which knocked him off his broom and into her, who happened to be flying beside him. She had barely caught him. Their combined weight, however, sent them both tumbling to the ground ten feet below. Giggles had been spilling from her lips before she could deliver the punchline of the story.  
Hermione’s head was tilted to the side, her eyes curious, before she interrupted Ginny.

“I hadn’t realized how close you had both become.”

The laughter died right away.

“Oh, no, Hermione, we’re just…” Ginny paused. “Teammates. He’s the only person on the team who’s my—”

“Friend?” 

It was with dawning horror that Ginny realized she _was_ friends with Malfoy. They had been friends for almost a year before she had even realized. It had taken a whole night, and another bottle of wine, along with plenty of questioning her sanity, before she accepted the fact. 

Ginny Weasley was friends with Draco Malfoy.

He had grown surprisingly more pleasant around her after the coaches yelled at them their first season together about getting along. They both enjoyed their back and forth banter. When he was being a baby, she called him out on it. And whenever she was being stubborn, he made fun of her for it. While they certainly made friendships with the new players who came on board the team—like Roger Davies and Angelina Johnson, who both went to Hogwarts with them—they still relied mostly on each other for entertainment.

And, as perplexing as it was, Ginny knew she _honestly_ enjoyed Draco’s friendship. He was unlike anyone else Ginny spent time with and there was something satisfying in that; she could always expect something new with him. Instead of trying to destroy the relationship growing between them, she left it be. 

But, even after accepting the friendship, she could openly admit it was odd. For one thing, Hermione and Luna were the only two people that knew she was on remarkably good terms with someone she once despised. She also had been forced to reacquaint herself with several former Hogwarts students that she hadn’t really wanted to; i.e. Blaise Zabini, Marcus Flint, and Pansy Parkinson. They were Draco’s friends that he mentioned more and more as she spent time with him and she had run into them occasionally after games.

It had been during their third season playing for the Tornados, Ginny’s fourth, that Hermione had once again pointed out something Ginny hadn’t realized.

“You _like_ him, don’t you?” 

The two women had been at a park with Rose, the baby having just grasped the concept of walking and liked large open spaces to roam, when Hermione said it. This time Ginny hadn’t even been speaking about Malfoy, instead staring after her niece with a fond look in her eyes. Unsurprisingly, the question startled Ginny.

“What are you talking about?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione said. “You fancy him, don’t you?”

Ginny wanted to laugh, really, but the question forced the idea into her head and she couldn’t react at all. 

“We’re friends,” was all she could say.

Hermione nodded. 

“Yes, well, friendships often develop into something deeper. I’m rather surprised I hadn’t thought of it before. It’s been ages now that you and Harry have broken up. You haven’t tried dating anyone. You keep Malfoy separated from the rest of your life. And you obviously enjoy spending time with him.”

Ginny had wanted to fight what Hermione was saying, honestly. But she wasn’t stupid. Throughout the season, Ginny had noticed her eyes wandering towards Malfoy whenever he was around. She couldn’t help it! She’d have to be blind to not notice how fit his body was or the way the muscles of his arms stretched whenever he reached for the Snitch. And she was allowed to appreciate the fact that Malfoy looked delicious whenever they were done a training session and changing in the locker, sweat glistening on his chest as he strode towards the showers without a shirt on.

Okay, yeah, it wasn’t only his body that she liked either. The sharp line of his jaw, the stormy gray of his eyes as he looked at her while she spoke, the way his lips twitched whenever he wanted to laugh at something she said but held back… Yes, she liked all of that too. It made warmth pool in her stomach unexpectedly and it hadn’t taken Ginny long to diagnosis the issue.

She wanted to shag him.

But Ginny knew how to handle lust. She wasn’t a barbarian! This wasn’t the first man she found attractive and she doubted it would be the last. Instead of acting on her instincts, like she would have with, well, any other person, she settled for admiring him like she would a particularly beautiful piece of artwork in a museum; she could look but she couldn’t touch.

Could it be possible, though? Had she somehow not noticed that her attraction for his very well sculpted body had mixed with her appreciation for his sharp tongue and humor? Ginny had been monitoring it so very closely too…

It didn’t matter. After Hermione put the idea in her head, it wouldn’t leave. Now, one season after Hermione observed Ginny’s new feelings for Draco, Ginny was full blown fantasizing over the man she still called _the amazing bouncing ferret_. She wanted to curse Hermione over it, really, but she found no real anger to hold onto. Because Ginny had a peculiar feeling it would’ve happened either way, with or without Hermione’s observation. And she rather _liked_ fancying Draco, except for the fact that he was utterly oblivious to it.

Which, in itself, was both a curse and a blessing.

After all, he’d simply never like her back, a fact she had accepted long ago. Draco went for more sophisticated women whose legs weren’t always scabbed and bruised, whose nails weren’t ever chipped and never had dirt beneath them, and who didn’t laugh obnoxiously at their own jokes. Ginny had seen him date several women over the years; she knew his type. 

And if he were to somehow find out about her feelings for him, Ginny knew their friendship would crumble. Draco didn’t seem to deal well with other people’s emotions, more inclined to sit back and wait for the person to figure themselves out. Whenever Ginny was angry at something that had happened and she ranted to Draco about it he offered little advice, instead letting her talk till she could no longer. If he knew she fancied him, she pictured him disappearing into thin air and never coming back.

Their work relationship would be ruined, along with their personal relationship.

So she opted not to say or act on anything. She would contain her feelings, enjoy the view she got every time he took off his shirt in the locker room, and hope that someday soon another handsome, sarcastic, quick-witted man would come about. Until then, she could deal with it. After all, hadn’t she done the same thing with Harry?

Which brought her back here—

“I swear, it’s like talking to a wall when I speak to you sometimes.”

Ginny looked up in surprise. She hadn’t realized she had spaced out so hard until the familiar sharp voice broke through her thoughts. 

Draco arched an eyebrow at her. 

“Shut it,” Ginny grumbled, once she recalled what he had said. “You don’t say anything fascinating anyway.”

She had been sitting outside of the locker room, sheltered from the light rain that had been falling all day, when her thoughts had trapped her. It didn’t matter, really. Ginny always showered after practice fairly quickly and raced out of the locker room. Normally she’d head straight home, or if the rest of the team was grabbing drinks she’d venture off with them, but today had been a bit different.

Throughout practice, Draco had been noticeably absent in his thoughts. Though he could be hard to read sometimes, it was clear today that something was bothering him, to the point that the Snitch flew in front of his face three times and he hadn’t caught it. Despite not being the best Seeker four years ago, he was quite good now so the lack of attention to his surroundings was unusual. 

Ginny had initially assumed that it was because practices didn’t really matter at the moment. Once again, for the fifth year in a row since Ginny joined the team, the Tutshill Tornados hadn’t made the playoffs. While a select group of teams went on, competing for the League Cup, the Tornados were left on the sidelines to watch. The coaches and owners were particularly unhappy about this so they forced the team to do practices once every two weeks despite the fact that their season was over.

Everyone had better things to do but showed up to appease the higher ups.

It wasn’t until the team had returned to the locker room and begun to change from their dirty gear, chatting idly to each other, that Ginny realized the pointless practice hadn’t been the issue. Draco was still angry about something, the tug of his lips a telling sign. She showered quickly, grabbed her stuff, and opted to wait outside for him.

Without invitation, he took the empty spot beside her on the bench. She stretched her arms above her, enjoying the burn of her muscles, before grinning.

“Lovely job on those rounds, Malfoy,” Ginny quipped. “Though I’m sure my Aunt Muriel would be faster on a broom than you.”

When his head rolled towards her, a sneer dancing across his lips, her grin widened.

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpanned. 

She eyed him, taking in his damp hair that he had combed back and the darkness of the skin beneath his eyes. Surprisingly, Draco didn’t seem too rushed to leave her, despite the fact that he rarely ever stayed behind after practice. Extending his legs out in front of him, he released a slow breath.

“You’re looking more miserable than normal today.”

“Thank you for that,” Draco grumbled, looking out towards the pitch instead of at her.

“I’m serious,” Ginny said, biting her lip as she studied him. “I saw you during practice. You missed the Snitch in front of you a handful of times.”

Draco continued staring ahead but his demeanor changed slightly.

“Watching me, were you?” he asked smugly.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny knocked elbows with him.

“Only because you were doing so horribly. I don’t think you even noticed the Snitch in front of you the second time. Too busy bloody daydreaming.”

Lifting her legs up, Ginny crossed them before resting her head in her hand. She stared at him even though he was purposely ignoring her. After years of studying at Hogwarts together and being forced in his company for Quidditch Ginny knew Draco liked attention on him. If she waited long enough, he would open up.

Like clockwork, he let out a dramatic sigh and locked eyes with her.

“I made a horrible decision,” Draco said, running a hand through his hair.

Instead of keeping the hair in place, it made the strands stick up. Ginny held back a snort when she realized his resemblance to Harry in that moment. If she mentioned that, he’d never tell her what was wrong. He’d likely curse her.

“Go on,” she prodded, biting at her thumbnail.

He scrunched his nose at the sight but decided to ignore her crudeness.

“I promised my mother I’d do something for her over the summer.”

“Well, that’s your own fault then. She is your mum, after all.”

Draco waved a hand to silence her and she rolled her eyes.

“I hadn’t thought we’d actually lose in the playoffs,” Draco snapped. “I only told her I’d help her out because I assumed we’d be on our way to win the League Cup. If we had won I wouldn’t have had the time to help her out. Instead we’re doing futile practices here every week.”

She couldn’t deny that. If they had managed to get past the first round of playoffs, they wouldn’t have had time for anything except eating, practicing, and sleeping.

“They planned on us losing. They _planned_ on it. My God, my mother knows how to inspire confidence in me, doesn’t she?” he asked sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. Always so dramatic. She wanted to continue letting him sulk but couldn’t help pushing his buttons.

“If you had caught the Snitch faster we would’ve won.”

He focused on her incredulously.

“If you hadn’t dropped the Quaffle a dozen times, my catching the Snitch wouldn’t have mattered so much, would it?” he retorted.

“Perhaps you should’ve stopped watching Weasley during the game and paid attention to your surroundings.”

Draco and Ginny looked away from each other and saw that the rest of the team was beginning to file out of the locker room. 

Angelina Johnson had her arms crossed over her chest as she peered down at them. He sneered at Angelina, reminding Ginny so fiercely of his eleven-year-old self that she had to glance away in fear that he would morph back into that brat of a boy right before her eyes.

“It’s a bit distracting when the whole crowd is booing the Chasers of your team,” Draco told Angelina pointedly.

He turned back to Ginny, eyebrows high on his forehead. 

“See, Weasley, it’s a team effort that we lost,” Draco continued. “It’s not just your fault. All of our Chasers are horrible.”

“Yeah, a _team_ effort,” Roger Davies interrupted, stepping up beside Angelina. “Meaning you’re just as much a part of this as anyone else, Malfoy.”

“The game was almost a month ago,” Lucian Boyle, one of their Beaters, added as he walked by. “Are we still fighting over why we lost? We lost because we’re a terrible team, ‘s all.”

“Hear, hear!” Angelina called in response to his retreating form. “That’s the spirit!”

Tossing her head back, Ginny laughed. 

“Back to the point,” Ginny said, subduing her giggles as Angelina and Roger started to leave. “You thought we would win, which we didn’t—”

“Not sure why everyone is so surprised about that,” Asma Rahman, the other Beater, said as she walked by waving.

“—so now you have to actually fulfill your promise to your mum. Which you’re rather horrid for planning on breaking in the first place, mind you.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her.

“Weasley, I do not have a choice on whether I actually agree or not to what my mother wants. And it wasn’t only her. It was that dreadful woman. They want to go on a summer long trip together!”

“What dreadful woman?” 

“Andromeda.” Draco spat her name.

Ginny stared at Draco in surprise.

“I had forgotten,” Ginny said slowly. “She’s your aunt, isn’t she?”

He made a sound deep in his throat. 

“I always liked Andromeda,” she informed him thoughtfully. “She’s very nice.”

When Ginny had still been dating Harry, there had been many times she found herself in the presence of Andromeda Tonks. Harry was Teddy Lupin’s godfather and felt it his duty to spend as much time with the young boy as possible. Every holiday, every birthday, Ginny found herself at Andromeda’s house. That is, of course, until she and Harry broke up.

“Nice?” Draco scoffed. “Conniving is the word I would choose.”

“Well, she is related to you so I’m not surprised.” 

His glare lacked any malice but his fingers had begun tapping the arm of the bench rapidly. She fought back a smile. Draco only ever did that when he was particularly frustrated.

“Back to the point. Your mother and Andromeda are absolutely horrible and show you no support and planned a trip around the chance that we would lose in the playoffs and have the summer off?”

He gave a furious nod.

Draco seemed unreasonably angry about this and Ginny wasn’t sure why. Standing abruptly, he took a few steps away from the bench and into the light rain, his back facing her. Then he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“You look like a child when you sit like that,” he told her.

Ginny looked down at herself, legs crossed and chin in the palm of her hand, and shrugged.

“Well you sound like a child whining about your mum going on holiday,” Ginny answered. “Why are you so upset about it anyway?”

Draco turned around completely. 

“Why am I upset?” he asked haughtily. “Because I’m left watching that bloody child!”

Well, _that_ was certainly surprising. Unable to conceal her shock, Ginny leaned forward.

“They’re having _you_ babysit Teddy?”

She barely managed to get the words out before she was laughing, falling back on the bench and almost sliding off. Clutching her sides, Ginny tried to calm herself, for she could feel the intensity of Draco’s glare on her. But every time the laughter almost died down, an image of Draco carrying Teddy in his arms would come to mind and she’d start snickering again.

Merlin, how old was Teddy now anyway? Six? Seven? He was an actual person, with ideas and thoughts, who could express his wants and needs and opinions. And they were leaving Draco in charge of him? 

Were they mad?

When it became hard to catch her breath, Ginny had to admit defeat and stop laughing. Struggling to sit up, a wave of dizziness hit her and it took a moment for her to focus on Draco again, whose heated scowl was harsher than she had seen in a while.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, wiping at her face.

But, honestly, Ginny was rather surprised by what Draco had just told her. Suddenly, she understood his lack of concentration throughout practice. He was likely trying to figure out how the hell he was going to manage this. And all summer too? 

“ _Why_ would you agree to that, Draco?”

“I was absolutely sloshed that night! My mother took advantage of my weakened state, really. I likely wouldn’t have recalled my middle name if she had asked me on the spot.”

Her eyebrows rose in interest.

“What _is_ your middle name?” 

Draco looked down at her, his lips tugging into a slight frown. It was clear he was thinking on whether to tell her or not before he shrugged.

“Lucius, of course.”

“Of course,” Ginny gleefully repeated. “Draco Lucius Malfoy. Very original.”

There must’ve been something in the way she said his name for Draco’s gaze sharpened. His eyes darted over her face with interest. She fought back a shiver as he studied her. There was something about the way Draco stared at her, the way his eyes pierced her, that she wondered if he was able to read her mind. Idiotic, she knew, but the feeling never left her. His gaze often reminded her of Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Tom Riddle…

“Why do you sound so excited?” he inquired, disturbing her from her thoughts. “That eager to learn my full name?”

“I’m simply honored that you’d trust me, a Weasley, with such a delicate information.”

Ginny was pleasantly surprised that her words brought a smile to his face. It was a rare but welcomed sight, catching him smiling at something she had said. 

“If you must know, anyone could find out my middle name by a simple search through Ministry files. Or a scan through the Daily Prophet.”

He sounded annoyingly arrogant about this.

“You must be very proud. The Ministry files are on your past trial and the Daily Prophet articles are about your rumored outings with, as my mum would say, _loose women_.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and she struggled to hide the self-satisfied smile that was tugging at her lips.

“Anyway, continue. Your mother got you to agree to watching Teddy for how long, exactly, while you were taking the edge off with some butterbeer? It can’t be for the whole summer.”

The rain was beginning to intensify and he stepped under the shelter of the stadium with her. She had to bend her neck backwards to look up at him properly.

“Yes, Weasley. All summer.”

)*(*)*(

His whole body ached in the delightful way it did only after playing Quidditch or having a good shag. Normally the burn deep in his muscles, along with a glass (or two or three) of scotch would lead him to the conclusion that he had a very successful day but, no, not today. 

Draco hadn’t been able to properly complain to Weasley about his extremely unkind mother. Bletchley, the Tornados’ Keeper, and several of the reserve players had come out of the locker room before he had finished the conversation, reminding Ginny that last week she had promised to swing by the pub with them for a drink. A flicker of annoyance had colored her face but she had hidden it relatively quickly; Draco had almost been proud of her. 

But it left him in a tough spot of being overly frustrated with his situation and having lost his possibly favorite person to vent to. His only other choices were Flint and Parkinson, both of whom would not care nearly as much as Ginny would. Perhaps it was time to find better friends, some people more like Weasley. He mentally scoffed before taking a long sip of his drink, allowing the liquor to sting its way down his throat before settling warm and heavy in his stomach.

It was strange enough for him to even mentally consider Ginny Weasley a friend and it was an even rarer occasion for him to admit it out loud, outside of the Tutshill Tornados locker room. There had been more than one time where he found himself with only Ginny for company and he hadn’t minded, not at all. She was quick with her taunts but found humor in their banter. Not many people enjoyed him like she seemed to. And, despite their long and difficult past together, Weasley had been the first person on the team to actually pay him any mind.

She had been screaming at him, of course, but it was the thought that counted. And, years later, Draco couldn’t deny that she was his friend; better than these two lumps before him.

As if hearing his thoughts, Pansy Parkinson turned a cool eye to him. Holding a glass of red wine in one hand, and a cigarette that was slowly burning to its end in the other, she appraised him as she often did. Despite not being the very best of friends, Pansy had grown up with Draco through Hogwarts and could read him as well as his own family. She sighed loudly.

“What is it, then? What is the latest drama with you, Draco?” Pansy questioned.

Draco frowned.

“I didn’t even say anything,” he snapped.

Marcus Flint grunted, his odd form of laughing, before sharing an entertained look with Pansy. Flint had become a part of their circle after Draco and Pansy graduated Hogwarts. After the war, after the trials, after the slander from the press it became harder than the former Slytherins liked to admit to find friends; it seemed only Slytherins were willing to be friends with Slytherins. 

Thus forming the odd trio at the table.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Flint grumbled. “Your sulking is enough.”

“I do not sulk,” Draco hissed, fighting the urge to cross his arms over his chest. 

Instead he took another sip of scotch.

“Just tell us,” Pansy ordered, annoyed. “I’d rather this not ruin dinner for me.”

“Dinner? Are we eating here?” Marcus glanced around the restaurant before giving a shrug of acceptance.

Frowning, Draco could only hold his tongue for a long second before speaking.

“I’m to watch that bloody Lupin child all summer!”

Pansy’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Your mother is still holding you to your promise?” she asked, a light note of disbelief in her voice.

Draco nodded.

“The half-breed child?” Flint questioned, voice low.

Pansy shot him a furious glare before scanning the restaurant. No one around them heard. Reaching out, Pansy shoved Marcus’ arm hard.

“You fool,” she fumed. “You do realize we’re out in public or are you blind as well as stupid?”

Marcus let out a loud sigh.

“Forgive me, to anyone who managed to hear,” he conceded, rolling his eyes. “I did not mean to call the werewolf’s child a half-breed.”

“You’ll get us thrown in Azkaban,” Pansy ranted quietly, stubbing out her cigarette. “You think they’re still not looking to get us in trouble? You absolute imbecile.”

“No one heard, Pansy, calm down,” Draco said. “But if you keep looking like you’re ready to murder him, the attention of this restaurant _will_ be on us.”

Pansy sniffed loudly.

“Why can’t you dump him off on someone else?” she asked, forcing calmness into her voice. “Isn’t he Potter’s godchild?”

Running his thumb along the carvings of his glass, Draco shook his head once. Potter had actually been the first person to come to mind when he realized he had to uphold his promise to his mother. But Andromeda had been quick to shut that option down, an annoying smile on her face when she had brightly rejected his idea. 

“Apparently, Potter is too _busy_ ,” he spat. “He’s set to save the world over the summer.”

“I didn’t know it needed saving,” Pansy remarked, glancing at her nails.

“What an exciting life,” Marcus commented dryly.

Draco smirked.

“The wench thinks it will be good for the Lupin boy to spend time with family,” he continued. 

“Family? Isn’t he your second cousin?” Pansy inquired curiously.

“First cousin, once removed, I believe,” Draco responded, frowning. “But, I suppose, since his parents are both dead, as are three quarters of his grandparents, he doesn’t have many options.”

Marcus shrugged, unconcerned.

“You didn’t kill them,” Marcus told Draco. “Why’s it your responsibility?”

“Well, of course I didn’t, Flint. But it’s only my mother, that bloody woman, and me left.”

“You sound like you pity the boy,” Pansy noted.

Narrowing his eyes, Draco glared at her.

“He’s set to ruin my summer. There is no pity for him here. Only pity for me, really,” Draco complained. 

The trio sat in a long silence, sipping at their respective drinks and looking around the restaurant. Marcus and Pansy seemed bored of the conversation already. Perhaps they had been hoping for better gossip or drama. It made Draco’s stomach squeeze in anger but he forced the feeling aside, having no time to deal with that on top of the dread that was beginning to fill him.

When he went to take another sip of his drink he realized it was empty. Putting the glass down harder than he meant to, Draco looked around for the waitress. It was going to take ages to get another drink and that was time Draco did not have to waste.

“When does this start, then?” Pansy asked him, her light eyes scanning his features.

His frown deepened.

“Tomorrow sometime, I suppose.”

Marcus let out a loud laugh at that; for once, it didn’t sound like a grunt. 

“Tomorrow? You’re to watch that monster tomorrow and you’re here drinking with us? Ah, Malfoy, I always knew you were dumber than you looked.”

Affronted, Draco’s mouth dropped open. Before he could respond, however, Flint jumped to his feet and headed towards the bar. Draco looked back to Pansy.

“Have you ever spent time with a child, Draco?”

That was a silly question. Of course not. Children were annoying and loud and messy, all things that Draco didn’t like to associate with. Reading the expression on his face, Pansy let out the most sympathetic sound Draco had ever heard from her.

“It isn’t wise for you to start watching the boy hungover and angry. You should probably head home,” she advised him.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I think not! I deserve one night of freedom, at least. And—”

Flint came back, a glass filled with familiar brown liquid held out in his hands. He offered it to Draco, his smile wide.

“And Flint here understands that I need tonight!” Draco finished, taking the glass.

Marcus lifted his own glass into the air, inclining his head to Draco.

“I can’t wait to see how long you last,” Marcus said. “As you know we’re going to be no help to you.”

Pansy smirked widely and inclined her head to Draco also. The pair took a sip before Draco could raise the glass to his lips. A sinking feeling hit him as he realized he was rather alone with this problem. Marcus and Pansy were not the helping kind and likely to purposely avoid him in order to not have to deal with the child. 

He took a long swig of scotch.

)*(*)*(

The streets of Diagon Alley weren’t nearly as crowded as Ginny had expected. She had easily maneuvered her way to Rose Lee Teabag, a teashop that Hermione had grown fond of over the years, and secured a table by a window. It hadn’t been but three minutes after Ginny ordered tea and scones for the table that Hermione shuffled in, carrying a small toddler in her arms and a heavy bag over her shoulder.

“Hermione!” Ginny cried out, rushing to her feet.

She went to take both Rose and the bag from Hermione but the older witch handed over only the child. Beaming, Hermione hugged Ginny, her swollen belly awkward between them. Ginny stepped back laughing.

“Are you mad? Ron would have your head if he knew you were carrying that heavy bag around,” Ginny said as she carried Rose back to the table. “Hello, Rose, darling.”

Rose grinned widely back at Ginny.

“Hi,” she said back shyly.

As she often did, Ginny looked over Rose with a small smile. She couldn’t believe Rosie was already three. It seemed like just yesterday that she was a newborn. How did that happen so quickly?  
Shifting Rose on her lap, Ginny forced her attention from her niece and looked eagerly at her friend.

“Thank you for meeting here today, Gin,” Hermione groaned, setting down the bag. “I’ve been needing to stop by Flourish and Blotts for ages now but Ron never wants to come here unless it’s for work. I can hardly talk because I can’t force myself off the couch unless it’s to go to work too. This pregnancy is much more wearing on me.”

Ginny shrugged.

“No problem,” she answered. “I haven’t been here in a while either. I figured I could take Rose around once you head out.”

Hermione hummed happily at that. A waitress came over then, dropping off the scones and tea, before shimming out of sight. Reaching over, Hermione poured them both a cup before handing Rose a treat. The little girl grabbed it, said a very polite thank you, and took a bite. Then Rose turned to Ginny, blue eyes shining.

“Mummy’s gonna have a baby,” she whispered.

Ginny grinned.

“Yes, she is. Are you excited?”

Rose’s smile widened and she nodded.

Turning back to Hermione, Ginny leaned forward breathlessly. She had been wanting to tell someone about the Quidditch practice the day before but not many people cared to hear about her stories on Draco. Hermione was one of the few who indulged her.

“Did you know Andromeda is going out of country for the summer?” Ginny asked.

Hermione wiped her mouth with a napkin as she peered at Ginny.

“Hmm, yes, she had told Harry a few months ago she was planning on it. I think she wanted him to watch Teddy the whole time.”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. She was such an idiot. Why hadn’t she thought of that when Draco was telling her about having to watch Teddy? Harry was a much better choice and certainly had spent more time with the little boy than Draco had. Lifting her cup of tea, Ginny tilted her head.

“Why isn’t he?”

Hermione’s eyes were on Rose, who was dropping crumbs all over Ginny. A slight frown marred her face but she didn’t scold the little girl.

“Kingsley wants him to train a fresh batch of Aurors over the summer. I believe he started just last week. I think it’s a welcome relief for Harry, honestly. He always liked teaching, ever since the D.A., and I think it was beginning to tire him, chasing after rogue Death Eaters all the time.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. It had been a long while since Ginny and Harry had ended their relationship but _now_ he realized he was getting worn down from putting his job first? Hermione watched her, a tender expression on her face.

“Do you still miss him?” Hermione asked softly.

Swirling the tea in her cup, Ginny stared at the brown liquid blankly. Then she shook her head and met Hermione’s gaze.

“No, of course not. It was over long before we ended anyway.”

Hermione nodded slowly.

“I wonder who Andromeda has watching Teddy, then? He’s so young still,” Hermione murmured.

The eagerness came back to Ginny and she shifted Rose from her one knee to the other. 

“Malfoy,” Ginny whispered excitedly.

“Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?” Hermione repeated, eyes widening. “She’s having Malfoy watch Teddy for the summer?”

Hermione ran her hands over her pregnant belly, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Andromeda is replacing Harry with Draco,” she said coolly. “Just like someone else I know.”

Used to Hermione’s inability to be delicate about almost anything concerning Harry or Ron, Ginny smiled in response. Pressing a kiss to the side of Rose’s face, which went mostly unnoticed as the toddler continued eating her scone, Ginny whispered in her niece’s ear.

“Your mummy is cruel, Rose.”

Hermione snorted.

“I still can’t fathom how you like that man,” Hermione said. “And how you could consider going from Harry to him.”

Ginny held up a hand.

“I am not going anywhere with Malfoy,” she reminded Hermione. “He’s nothing more than a friend.”

“A friend who you find extremely attractive.”

“Only when he doesn’t open his mouth.”

Hermione laughed.

“But what if he were to take notice of you? Romantically?”

“He won’t,” Ginny assured her, shrugging.

She had long given up the idea of anything happening between her and Draco. 

“He’s clueless,” she muttered. “He wouldn’t realize I fancied him if I tattooed it on my forehead. I mean, honestly though, who would have thought _I’d_ like _him_? A Weasley liking a Malfoy? It’s absurd.”

“Indeed,” Hermione replied after a brief pause. “But it doesn’t make it impossible.”

Ginny frowned but tactfully steered the conversation away from her relationship with Draco. The rest of the time was spent chatting about the latest commotion at the Ministry and the current legislation Hermione was attempting to get passed. Being pregnant seemed to make it easier for Hermione to get bills passed—possibly because everyone was so impressed that she was still showing up to work. 

When the tea was done, though Hermione only allowed herself one cup, and the majority of the scones were eaten by Rose, the trio left the teashop. Diagon Alley had become busier during their time inside the shop but Ginny knew it was likely the morning rush as people hurried to pick up things before work. Ginny never used to wake up so early until her brothers began having babies that needed watching. 

Handing Rose off to Hermione so that the mother could say goodbye to her child, Ginny took a glance around. How many times had she been here when she was young? And now she was considered an adult, helping raise children herself. She almost laughed at the idea of it. Hermione gave Rose another kiss on the cheek before handing her back to Ginny.

“Thanks again for meeting up today, Ginny,” Hermione rushed to say. “I’ll see you at the Burrow tonight for dinner?”

“Yeah, of course.” Ginny smiled.

“Alright. Rose, be good for—”

“Weasley, is that you?”

The unfamiliar voice startled the trio and Ginny spun on her heel to face… Marcus Flint? She hadn’t seen the man since the beginning of the season, when he had come to one of the first Tornados games and met up with Draco afterwards. Staring at him, Ginny frowned.

“Flint,” she greeted. “Morning.”

“Morning,” he echoed, a wide grin stretching on his face, displaying his crooked teeth. 

It was odd to see him look so pleased.

Then he spied Hermione and his eyebrows rose.

“Granger, pleasure seeing you outside of the office,” Flint remarked.

Ginny frowned before remembering that Hermione and Flint both worked for the Ministry. They likely saw each other far more than Ginny and Flint.

“Granger-Weasley,” Hermione corrected automatically. “Good seeing you too, Marcus.”

His eyes landed on Rose, cradled by Ginny. Rose seemed unbothered by the stranger, her gaze curious as she looked him over.

“Good with children, are you, Weasley?” Marcus laughed. “Malfoy’s going to need all the help he can get. I’m sure he told you about having to watch that Lupin kid?”

Hermione stiffened beside her but Ginny calmed at his words. When Flint had come to visit Draco at that game this season, he had stumbled upon Draco and Ginny laughing together outside the locker room. Instead of being mystified by the interaction, Flint had seemed rather amused and now greeted Ginny kindly whenever he saw her. Draco was the only tie she had with Flint and she knew that was the only reason he had stopped her just now.

“He did,” Ginny agreed, absentmindedly swatting Rose’s hand away from her hair when it strayed towards the loose strands.

“We have a bit of a bet going, you see,” Marcus informed her. “Among Draco’s friends.”

Was he including her in that category?

“A bet over what?” Hermione asked.

“How long it will take before Draco waves the white flag,” Marcus answered, staring at them as though surprised they hadn’t figured it out right away. “He’s not likely to get any help with that child and he’s never been around a kid before. Want to place a wager?”

Hermione huffed.

“That’s quite rude! You won’t help him with Teddy?” she inquired sharply.

Marcus blinked.

“Of course not, Granger.”

Ginny could almost hear Hermione grind her teeth beside her, though she wasn’t sure if it was because Marcus purposely said Hermione’s last name wrong again or if it was because he didn’t feel obligated to help Draco.

“Weasley? Want to join the fun?” 

“I’ll pass, thanks,” she replied nonchalantly. 

His dark eyes went to Hermione but he didn’t bother asking her. The distain on her face must have been enough of an answer. Tilting his head in farewell, he continued on his way, though there was still a wicked smile on his face.

Turning to face Hermione, Ginny let out a soft breath.

“They’re horrid, his friends,” Hermione growled. “Who needs enemies with friends like that?”

Ginny shrugged, though her stomach felt tight. She had meant to write Draco this morning before she headed out to Diagon Alley, wanting to question him further about watching Teddy, but she had forgotten. Flint coming up, however, and discussing the situation with her made everything much more real. Feeling guilty, Ginny mulled over the idea of stopping by the owlery here and writing him something quickly. 

“I’ll be off then.”

Hermione’s words jolted Ginny from her uneasy thoughts and she offered her sister-in-law a quick goodbye. Rose’s grip around Ginny’s neck tightened briefly once Hermione disappeared into the crowd.

“Want to go see some owls, Rose?” 

The little girl gave an excited nod and Ginny’s decision was made. 

)*(*)*(

There was something pounding loudly in the room. Draco wasn’t sure if it was simply his head about to explode or something else but he found he didn’t care too much at the moment, thank you very much. He just wanted to go back to sleep. If he opened his eyes and tried to find the source of the noise, or the hangover potion he had left by his bedside, he’d have to admit he was awake and deal with the day.

But if he kept his eyes closed—

“Draco, darling, it’s time to wake up.”

Oh, hell, it was his mother. What, exactly, was the point of wards if just about anybody could come in? Groaning, Draco rolled onto his back and admitted defeat. He opened his eyes.

Immediately he regretted it. Why was it so bright outside? And, ugh, that bloody pounding. Draco sat up slowly, grimacing as his head pulsed, before glancing around. He had never closed his window or curtains the night before, allowing light and outside noise in. Without looking, he reached over to his nightstand. His hand closed around a round, familiar object and he brought it towards him. A wave of nausea washed over him at the slight movement and he grimaced.

Holding the object in front of his face, Draco squinted his eyes and looked over it. Hell, it was past noon. No wonder it was so bright. Tossing his pocket watch back onto the nightstand, Draco grabbed the bottle of hangover potion and uncorked it. Taking a swig, he allowed it a second to settle in his stomach before having a better look around.

He had managed to at least strip out of his clothes last night, leaving him only in his briefs. The loud hammering wasn’t his head, for his headache had begun to fade already. It was an alarm going off, alerting him that his wards had been bypassed. Draco released a breath through his teeth. Fat lot of good that did. And, outside his bedroom door, he could hear his mother speak again.

“Really, now, darling, Andromeda and I have to leave in thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes? They were here dropping off the kid already?

“I’m awake!” he called, putting his head in his hands.

He thought he heard Andromeda say _finally_ but he wasn’t sure. Draco scowled nonetheless. This was her fault, after all. Though, truthfully, it wasn’t his smartest decision to stay out the night before with Flint and Parkinson, consuming large quantities of scotch. Pansy _had_ warned him of the pain of babysitting. 

A wary chuckle escaped him at his thoughts.

He was a bloody babysitter! A summer that should’ve been spent with late night excursions to bars with friends, taking a pretty bird home, sleeping in till noon with no complaint was now replaced with watching a little brat every day. Getting out of bed, Draco threw on a silk robe that hung in his closet before pausing at the unexpected sight of an envelope. An owl must’ve delivered him a letter while he was sleeping.

Bloody thing didn’t even attempt to wake him up.

Walking over to where the letter sat, on the desk by his window, he picked it up upon seeing the familiar writing. Weasley. He opened it swiftly. A quick scan of the parchment lessened the severity of his frown. She was asking more about his situation with the Lupin child, since they hadn’t finished their discussion the day before. He’d have to write her back later, for he could only imagine the irritation growing inside his mother as she waited outside his room. With that in mind, Draco dropped the letter and stalked across the room. Then he opened his bedroom door, ready to properly complain.

His mother was no longer there.

Looking down the corridor, he saw no one. Running a hand over his face, Draco fought the desire to run back into his bedroom and lock the door. Instead he headed down the hallway and immediately ran into his aunt.

“Draco,” she called brightly. “You’re awake. I was half wondering if we should’ve come around three or four, as that seems to be your normal waking hour.”

Blankly, Draco looked away from his aunt to his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was smirking, seated in a chair in the kitchen. Beside her, frowning harshly, was the little boy. Draco eyed him, from his scruffy shoes to his extremely well-worn clothes, from the twist of his lips when he spotted Draco to his mousy brown hair. Odd, he thought his mother had mentioned that the boy could change appearance, something like a Metamorphmagus. The boy looked sickeningly normal to him.

Narcissa placed a hand on the Lupin boy’s shoulder.

“Draco, this is Teddy.”

It was strange to hear such an ordinary name fall from his mother’s lips. Not too long ago, she’d been disgusted by the news that her sister had a grandchild on the way. Now she was gladly forcing the child onto him.

“Teddy, this is your Uncle Draco.”

The boy glanced up at Narcissa, clearly unsure. Draco sighed.

“I’m not his uncle, mother.”

“First cousin, once removed,” Andromeda piped up. “Teddy, say hello.”

The child said nothing. 

“Go on, Teddy, we’re running out of time.”

“Hi,” he mumbled. Then, in a louder voice, he looked to Andromeda and spoke. “Granny, can’t I go with you?”

“Of course not,” Andromeda responded, her smile soft. “This is a trip just for the two of us sisters.”

He let out a loud, long sigh. Draco rather agreed with the Lupin boy. At least it was comforting to know neither of them wanted to be in each other’s presence. Folding his arms, Draco leaned against the wall.

“And you’ll be spending some nights with Harry, dear,” Andromeda reminded him.

At the mention of Potter, the boy straightened in excitement. Draco’s eyebrows rose.

“Will he?” Draco asked.

Narcissa’s smirk grew, if only by a fraction. Draco took note of it nonetheless and frowned at her.

“Didn’t I mention? Harry Potter will be meeting you every Saturday and taking dear Teddy for the night,” Narcissa informed him. 

“Meeting me where?” Draco almost snarled, his patience wearing thin.

“Teddy’s little league Quidditch games. Every Tuesday and Thursday are practices, every Saturday a game.”

He breathed in sharply.

“You have got to be joking.”

“No, of course not,” Andromeda said, smirking. “Now, I’ll be writing often and I’d like a quick reply, of course, from Teddy. He writes rather well for his age, though it would be kind of you to help him with some spelling— and make sure doesn’t use up too much parchment. He writes his letters a bit large.”

“When will you be back?” the boy whined.

Draco realized, with a start, that he hardly knew any information about their trip. He had spent so much time trying to get out of watching the child that he hadn’t asked his mother anything about her vacation.

“Beginning of August, my dear.”

“Where are you going?” Draco asked stonily.

“Oh, Rome, Venice, Florence, Dublin, perhaps… It will all be very lovely,” Andromeda cooed.

“Yes, I agree,” Narcissa said softly, catching Draco’s attention. “I had the house-elves clean up your room and a spare room at the manor for you and Teddy.”

“The manor,” Draco spat. “I’ve my own place to live, as you see.”

Draco waved his arm around the room as though showcasing it. 

“I pay for it monthly. What’s the point of me making payments on it if I’m to stay at the manor?”

“You could always move back home with your mother,” Andromeda suggested.

It was something he imagined Ginny saying to him. No wonder Weasley liked the wench so much. He scowled at his aunt.

“Draco, this place is not made to hold a child,” Narcissa responded, ignoring the growing anger of her son and the amusement of her sister. “The manor has more than enough room for you and Teddy. You can both practice Quidditch in the backyard. The house-elves will be there to clean and cook. And there’s a library, for entertainment.”

He already knew that, he had grown up there. Draco wanted to say just that but the look on his mother’s face stilled the words on his tongue. There _would_ be much more room at the manor. His flat was large but it wasn’t meant for more than just him, and that’s how he liked it. After growing up in the enormous, empty manor, Draco found he rather enjoyed the much smaller, warmer flat he now resided in. 

But he didn’t like the idea of listening to the Lupin boy bitch and moan every day in his small, warm flat. Draco could easily put some distance between himself and the boy at the manor. And with the large yard, the library, and the many rooms to explore, the child would likely be much more amused than here. As always, his mother was right. 

If Draco could get over the unpleasant twist of his stomach at the idea of returning to Malfoy Manor, that is.

His mother seemed to know that he was mulling over her suggestion. Standing, her smirk softening into a smile, Narcissa walked up to Draco. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek. As often occurred when his mother annoyed him, her touched calmed him, if only a bit. 

“This will be good,” she said softly. “For all of us, I think. Won’t it be nice to have a family again?”

Draco nodded, if only to appease her. But he couldn’t help thinking that he already rather enjoyed his family, even if it was only his mother, his father, and him.

His mother and aunt did not linger long. Draco wondered if they feared he’d abandon this ridiculous arrangement, run away and simply refuse to return until they gave his freedom back to him. But he did not run. Sure, he might have been a bit bad-tempered as he watched the two women leave but that was the worst of it. When the door clicked shut behind them, he glanced at the boy.

The child stared sullenly back. Had his hair gotten darker? The locks on his head looked as black as the night sky. Draco couldn’t recall now if it had been black or brown when he first saw him. Perhaps it was that simply everything seemed darker now that they were stuck together. 

The pair stared at each other for a long moment before Draco looked away. Beside the young boy were two large bags. This was official. Draco was officially babysitting a child for the summer.

Lightly clearing his throat, the boy interrupted Draco’s thoughts.

“Uncle Draco?”

Draco frowned. Hadn’t they already gone over this?

“I’m not your uncle,” Draco repeated once more, pushing himself out of the seat he had been occupying.

He turned his back towards the child, stepping further into the kitchen and grabbing a pastry off the counter. Taking a bit of his snack, Draco turned back to face the Lupin boy.

His dark eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes scrutinizing him.

“What should I call you then?”

My God, Draco should’ve just let the boy call him uncle, even if the idea of that repulsed him. Draco wanted to ignore him and head back to bed. That was not an option, however.

“Sir, Master, Lord Malfoy—” Draco listed dryly.

The boy stared at him blankly. He was _joking_ , of course. Couldn’t the kid take a joke? Draco sighed, taking another bite of the pastry. It would be nice to be called sir, though. That would show his idiot friends who had absolutely no faith that he could manage to watch a child… for two months.

Two months. Someone end this torture now.

“Draco is fine, I suppose,” he allowed.

The boy’s face scrunched up.

“Harry said to call you slimy git.”

A scowl marred Draco’s face. Thankfully Ginny wasn’t here. He could almost hear her laughter in his head as he stormed off to his room.

)*(*)*(

It was always exhausting, doing dinner at the Burrow with the whole family. And yet, every Friday, Ginny went to her childhood home, played with her nieces and nephew, helped her mum cook, teased her brothers, and gossiped with her sisters-in-law. She knew it wouldn’t be like this forever, especially since the children seemed to be growing up so fast, and that it was worth the fatigue. But she still liked to complain just a little as she changed into her pajamas and heated the kettle.

Turning on the gramophone before laying out on the couch, Ginny closed her eyes and waited for the familiar whistle of the teapot. Tomorrow she should probably clean her flat, in case her mum decided on  
another surprise visit this weekend. No matter how many times Ginny stopped by the Burrow to see her, her mum always made sure to come by the flat unexpectedly. It was getting a little ridiculous, to be honest. Perhaps she should ask George how to bring that up to Molly, though Merlin knew that he wasn’t going to know what to say—

A brief, quick tapping at the front door jolted her from her thoughts.

Sitting up, Ginny glanced around. 

_Tap, tap, tap._

Ginny groaned. Speaking of George… she hoped he hadn’t decide to come over with another bottle of Firewhiskey. Last week when George had decided to stop by for a Friday night drink she had hardly been able to get out of bed until Sunday. Pushing her hair out of her face, Ginny wrenched open the front door.

“I refuse to clean up your vomit again, Geo—Malfoy? What? What are you doing here?”

Standing in her doorway, looking extremely tired, stood a disheveled Draco. She studied him quickly, surprised. They very rarely spent any time together outside of Quidditch practice or games. The sight of him instantly sent her pulse rocketing. 

“Are you drunk?” she asked, the words slipping from her mouth before she could stop them. 

His face was pale and drawn, his eyes feverish. Draco’s fists were clenched at his sides but he didn’t seem angry, just frustrated. What was going on? He hadn’t responded to his letter… maybe this was his way of answering her? 

“I wish,” Draco grumbled. “Weasley, I… ugh, hell, Weasley, I need your help.”

And, from behind Draco, Teddy stepped into view. 

)*(*)*(


	2. Chapter Two

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

“Teddy?”

The sight of the little boy shocked Ginny just as much as Draco’s arrival at her doorstep had. But she wasn’t given much of a chance to piece together what was going on for Teddy launched off the floor and into her arms—she only just managed to catch him and swing him up onto her hip, just as she had done with Rose earlier in the day. He was much bigger than Rose, his shoes knocking her knees as he swung his legs.

Before her very eyes, Teddy’s hair changed colors as he grinned happily at her. The dark strands on his head lightened into a color similar to Ginny’s, ginger and bright. This wasn’t the first time that Ginny had seen Teddy’s hair change and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Ever since she babysat Teddy with Harry when he was only a toddler, the boy’s hair would change color to whoever he laid eyes on, as long as he liked the person.

It made going out anywhere with Muggles rather difficult.

But the sight was always pleasant, especially since Teddy’s hair always went red at the sight of her. Now, however, the familiar smile that came to her at the sight of his changing hair lasted on briefly as she turned to look at Draco, who had been suspiciously quiet the whole time.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked, once their eyes met.

She frowned.

“Do I have to?”

His glower was enough of an answer. Ginny couldn’t help it, though. Draco had only visited her flat once before and it had been very brief; he had only wanted someone to complain to about the Daily Prophet writing that the Tornados should boot him from the team. She had a feeling this visit would be somehow similar, if only in the sense that he was here to complain and wanted her to listen. 

But he looked exhausted. Even with the poor lighting in the hall, Ginny could see the strain on his face. She nodded and stepped back into her flat, turning her back to Draco and putting Teddy back on his feet. Teddy curled a finger, a silent request for her to come closer to him, and she leaned in.

“Am I allowed to stay over here?” Teddy asked, hopeful.

“Let me talk to Draco first, yeah?” Ginny replied, standing straight. “Go on, there’s some games in there.”

Teddy raced into her drawing room and she looked back to Draco. He had closed the front door behind him when he stepped in and seemed to blend in with the shadows. Tilting her head, Ginny bit her lip hard before deciding to speak.

A loud whistle emitted when she opened her mouth.

Draco stepped out of the shadows, his eyebrow rising.

“That’s a first,” he drawled. 

The kettle was ready. Ginny closed her mouth but already felt a smile tugging at her lips. He was such an idiot.

“You look like shit, Malfoy,” Ginny told him. “Need a cuppa?”

She led the way to the kitchen, knowing that he was following her without needing to check. The sound of his light footsteps was familiar to her and she always managed to pick up on it no matter the level of noise around her. Switching on a light, causing Draco to squint slightly, she headed towards the stove and took the teapot off the flame. Then she reached for two mugs.

“I forget how very _Muggle_ your flat is,” he observed.

Ginny glanced back at him.

He looked too tall in her kitchen but she supposed all the boys did; her ceiling was rather low but she was short and never cared. His arms were crossed over his chest and his shirt was untucked and wrinkled. Merlin, this was the most disheveled she had ever seen him. Taking a moment to study him, she again noted the darkness under his eyes, the harsh frown marring his expression, the loose strands of hair that were so unlike him. Ginny hated the sympathy that flooded her at the sight.

“Spending time with a child looks like it’s doing you well,” she said after she made them each a cup of tea. 

She approached him and handed him one of the warm mugs. He took it, one corner of his lips turning upwards briefly.

“Yes, well, it doesn’t help that I was out drinking last night.”

Ah, that made more sense.

Ginny had seen Draco hungover more times than she could count over the years—and he had seen her the same. It was never fun hating yourself the morning after drinking in general but to have to babysit the same day was absolutely dreadful. She reached out and patted his arm sympathetically.

“Teddy is under the impression he has the option of sleeping over.” Ginny paused. “Now why would he think that?”

“The boy clearly likes you better,” Draco responded. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t call him _the boy_ ,” Ginny told him, rolling her eyes.

He didn’t seem to hear her, instead taking a long sip of his tea. His eyes fluttered shut as soon as the liquid reached his lips. Ginny wanted to look away, really, but instead she continued staring up at him.

Warmth spread through her at the odd intimacy of having him in her kitchen, leaning against her tiny table with the full weight of his body, sipping from one of her chipped teacups. He let out a long breath before his eyes peeked open, showing her the gray irises that were hidden underneath. They lingered on her.

“You need my help?” 

The words came from her as she remembered what he had first said to her when he still stood out in her corridor, awaiting entry. Draco inclined his head slightly and she knew that saying the words the first time had been hard enough for him. He never asked Ginny for help, despite the fact that they had been on friendly terms for years now. She was surprised it took her so long to remember the plea; the shock of seeing Teddy had stalled Draco’s words from being properly processed.

“How could I possibly help you?” she asked cautiously.

“Oh, I don’t know, take the child for the next two months and allow me to piece my sanity back together.”

Ginny stared at him hard and, after a pause, he shrugged one shoulder.

“I don’t watch children. I don’t like being in the presence of them. I don’t particularly care for the fact that their noses seem to constantly have mucus pouring out of them or that their voices reach incredibly high pitches when they’re bored. And, honestly, the brat doesn’t seem to care for me too much either,” he ranted.

From the other room, Ginny could hear Teddy talking lowly to himself. Draco must’ve picked up on it too in their moment of silence for he cocked his head slightly. Then she heard the well-known sound of Gobstones hitting the table. He must’ve found the board she left out from the other night. 

“Children are loud, messy, and annoying.”

His eyes raked over her.

“Rather like you.”

A laugh escaped her without her permission and she reached over, shoving him. The impact didn’t affect his position against the table much, only shifting him slightly, but his smirk was undeniable. 

“Malfoy, you really should start calling him by his first name. It doesn’t exactly make you seem friendly when you keep calling him child, brat, boy…” she trailed off, wondering what else Draco had been calling Teddy since he started watching him. 

“You still call me Malfoy,” Draco pointed out.

“Only when you irritate me.”

His eyebrows lifted, as if to say _Well, when the brat stops irritating me I’ll call him by his given name._ Then he suddenly leaned forward, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her upper lip. She stilled.

“He likes you. You should’ve seen his face when I told him we were heading to see you. It was like Christmas came early for him. He likes you and if he likes you it will make this all much easier. Come to my flat, stay over a few nights and make sure, I don’t know, that I don’t damage the boy further,” he rushed to say.

“Your flat? You want me, you, and Teddy to crash at your place? It’s hardly bigger than mine!”

If she remembered correctly, the few times she had seen his place it was almost the same size as hers. And her own flat had trouble fitting her and whatever visitor decided to stop by, much less her, bloody Malfoy, and a young boy.

Draco ignored her.

“Come on, Weasley. You like children, right? How many spawns have your brothers produced so far? Eight? Nine?”

“Three, actually,” Ginny replied, glaring. 

“Well, it’s three more children in your life than I have, isn’t it?”

He clearly felt like he made a valid point for he was waving his right hand around dramatically.

“You didn’t make it seem like you were getting Teddy today.”

“I had thought I’d be able to get rid of him. I failed.”

Annoyance crept up on her hot and fast. It was Friday night. She had an exhausting day with her family. And all she had wanted to do was listen to music and have some tea while relaxing on the couch before going to sleep. 

“He’s your responsibility, Draco,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s Friday night and I have things to do. I was going to—”

He looked up, having been focused on the steam from his tea, and zoned in on her.

“Sit here and listen to that horrible music all night?” Draco interrupted, smirking. It was the first time since he’d arrived that he looked completely back to normal. 

The music drifted in from the drawing room now that there was silence between them and Teddy was no longer talking out loud. One of the artists hit a particularly high note and Ginny almost stomped her foot in frustration.

“What am I going to be able to do that you can’t?” she snapped.

“Oh, I don’t know, make sure the child survives the night.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being particularly stubborn. What do I have to do?” he asked.

“Go home with Teddy and let me rest.”

“To get you to come with me,” Draco elaborated, eyebrows raising.

It felt like butterflies had been let loose in her stomach. Staring at Draco as he studied her back, a plea for her to help him on his lips as he stood in her kitchen, tired and desperate, could not be ignored no matter how much she wanted to. 

With a sigh, she took a seat at the table and put her head in her hands. Her eyes darted back and forth over the cracked white tabletop. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help Draco, of course, or that she didn’t want to spend any time with Teddy, for she did love the little boy. Any irritation she felt now was simply because she was tired from the day. And if it were Hermione or Luna or any of Ginny’s sisters-in-law asking Ginny to stay over for a week to help out with the children she wouldn’t hesitate. No, the real issue was that it was easy to control herself around Draco when all they did was practice together and maybe visit a pub afterwards… but to stay with him at his flat for a few nights?

It seemed like poking a sleeping dragon. She could handle herself just fine when there were others around to distract her, when she knew she couldn’t pounce on him because the coaches were watching… but to be alone with him for so much time on end could be dangerous. Ginny had always found it hard to not go after what she wanted. What if her resolve broke over the next few days? Everything could be ruined.

The idea of spending more time with Draco, though, was extremely appealing. She had never lied to herself and said she didn’t _enjoy_ liking Draco—it was just hard to not want him to like her back. This would give Ginny a glimpse into the part of Draco’s life she wasn’t included in. And, maybe, it would even help her break free from the hold he had on her. Maybe he was an absolute slob at home. Perhaps some annoying habits would come to light that would make her realize she didn’t like him at all!

Grimly, she lifted her head and was startled to find he hadn’t looked away from her.

“I can stay till Friday and then you’re on your own.”

An eyebrow lifted in question.

“I spend the day at the Burrow,” she admitted. “And I refuse to break that, lest my mum come looking for me and find me at your flat.”

He collapsed into the seat beside her.

“Friday, then,” he agreed.

Laughter rang from the other room unexpectedly and they both let out sighs.

)*(*)*(

The relief that had washed over Draco as he waited in Ginny’s flat, keeping a wary eye on the boy who was more than delighted by the Gobstone game in front of him, was overwhelming. Draco wasn’t one to ask for help and coming to Ginny had been his absolute last resort. But, hell, the child had been an absolute menace in the short hours they spent together.

The boy had wanted to go outside and run around, which Draco had not wanted to do—the idea of sitting the warm sun while still feeling a tad nauseous hadn’t been appealing. He had wanted Draco to teach him to play chess, swearing that Ginny’s idiotic older brother had already begun to and he just needed to brush up on his skills. Draco also did not want to do that. When Draco left the kitchen to wash his face and brush his teeth, the child managed to pull everything out of his packed bags and throw it around the kitchen. Andromeda must’ve placed an extension charm on the two bags for the number of things spewed around his flat was staggering. 

He had almost wrung the boy’s neck at the sight of the mess. 

Eventually Draco did decide to go outside with the Lupin boy to find food. He had been lost in his thoughts, debating whether to actually stay for the rest of the summer with the child at Malfoy Manor or not (he rarely visited home after the war, far too many bad memories, and the idea of being there alone with a kid was not one he liked), when he realized the boy was no longer by his side. Gone, without a single peep.

It took Draco thirty minutes of further debate (how much did he really care about this brat) as he attempted to search for him before Draco found him, sitting happily on a bench, looking out at the street. The menace’s hair was teal, which it certainly hadn’t been when they left. He could change his appearance. While the knowledge fascinated Draco briefly, his anger soon came back. When Draco had gone to yell at him, the boy’s words almost broke him.

“Where have _you_ been?”

_Who_ did this child think he was? His father had been a werewolf, his mother an absolute idiot, and his grandmother a traitor to her family. Draco had to turn away and take several deep breaths before coming to the conclusion that he needed help—simply someone to balance him out. Pansy wouldn’t do, for she had warned him before they went their separate ways the night before that if he reached out to her she’d send him a Howler. Flint was on project for the Ministry and would be working long hours. And Zabini was on holiday with a pretty thing in France.

The ginger haired harpy that he shared a locker beside came to mind right away and, strangely, he had relaxed at the idea of going to her. She was his only friend that would actually hear him out. And Ginny had sent him that letter earlier in the morning, inquiring after him. 

Now, after having visited her and seeing her resolve soften the longer he spoke of the disastrous situation, he wasn’t sure how he’d ever express his gratitude. Draco was sure she’d be reminding him of this favor for the next five years but he hardly minded. 

When Ginny was finished packing up a small bag, they used her Floo to get back to Draco’s place. Though he’d never tell her, Ginny’s fireplace had always been set up to have access to Draco’s flat, just in case anything went wrong and she needed a quick place to escape to. He never put much thought into that reasoning when he set up the Floo system and he refused to think on it too much even now. Instead, he watched as she took the child’s hand and went into the fireplace with him, emerald flames licking her legs.

She shot him an annoyed look before disappearing abruptly. He followed after a moment of hesitation.

When his apartment came into view, he stepped out of the hearth and onto his rug. He brushed the soot off his shirt and then turned his attention to the mess before him. The child had pulled out blankets from his closet, tossing them onto the chairs and couch. Draco looked around, spying Ginny right away. 

“I thought you were supposed to stop him from being messy.”

“I’m not a house-elf, Draco,” she said shortly. Then she sighed, pointing distractedly at the boy. “He wants to build a fort.”

“A fort?”

A fort in his drawing room? Was she mad? Draco had only just cleaned up the boy’s clutter from earlier! But from the way her lips curled up in a grin, obviously taking note of his brief panic, Draco knew she had probably told the Lupin boy to go right ahead with his plans.

“This is where I’ll sleep!” the boy proclaimed as he began shaking out the blankets.

It was obvious the child was talking to Ginny, and not him, and for that Draco was thankful. He went into this kitchen and poured a glass of water. A thought came to mind; this was not how Draco expected his week to go, babysitting a werewolf’s child with the help of a Weasley. What had he done to deserve this?

“Well, I’ll be sleeping out here too so you’ll need to make enough room for me,” Draco heard Ginny say.

He frowned and stepped out of the kitchen.

“You’ll be sleeping in my room, Weasley,” he said. “Don’t be foolish.”

She spun around on the couch in surprise, her eyebrows furrowed. It was rare for him to catch Ginny off guard and a flash of amusement went through him at the sight. If there was one memory he wanted to save of Weasley, it was this: dressed in holey pajamas, hair haphazardly thrown in a bun on the top of her head, cheeks flushing red in disbelief.

Draco forgot how startlingly pretty she could be sometimes. He reckoned that not many people were privy to seeing her like this.

Alarmed at his thoughts, Draco refocused on her.

“In your room?” Her voice was pitched oddly. “Where will you sleep?”

He frowned.

“In my room also,” Draco answered.

Ginny opened her mouth, closed it, then let out a weak laugh.

“Draco, I can sleep out here—”

“You can sleep in my fort,” the Lupin child offered, interrupting her. 

“Yes, Ginny, sleep in the child’s fort,” Draco drawled. “I’m sure it will be very comfortable sleeping on the ground.”

She glared at him, crossing her arms. 

“Or the bathtub,” he suggested. “I’m sure that will be just as snug.”

“You’re a prat.”

“Watch your language in front of the child.”

It looked like she was beginning to reconsider coming to his flat so, in order to keep things peaceful, Draco headed to his bedroom. After all, it was nearing eleven already and he hadn’t received proper sleep the night before. Ginny could deal with the child, he could go to bed and, maybe for the first time in the last week, pretend he wasn’t a permanent babysitter.

With that thought in mind, he grabbed a pair of clean briefs, headed to the bathroom that was connected to his room and had a door leading out to the hallway, and started the shower. The clothes he wore felt dirty and stretched but Draco wasn’t too surprised by that. Chasing after that menace had been far more exercise off the pitch than he had taken part of in a while.

The hot water felt nice on his back, soothing his taunt muscles, washing away the experience of the day. After a good ten minutes, Draco left the shower, put on his briefs, and entered the room. It was perfect timing, too, for Ginny barged in not a moment later. Her eyes felt hot on his back and he turned to look at her, aware that she wanted to fight with him.

“Something wro—”

“I put Teddy to bed, if you were worried about it.”

With no warning, she threw the bag she had been carrying at him. Her aim was on point; the bag collided with his stomach. Thankfully it was much softer than a Bludger. He caught it with an _‘oomph’_ that seemed to satisfy her, amusement coloring her features. Draco tossed the bag beside his dresser before climbing into bed. Under the covers, his body was already calming, breathing evening out as he got into the perfect spot. 

Then he felt her gaze on him again.

“Yes?” 

Ginny stood by the foot of his bed, frowning. Was she… was she nervous? Draco sat up a bit, eyes darting over her. He hadn’t really thought it strange to share a room, a bed, with Weasley. They were teammates and had gone to several training camps together, sharing a room for the few hours of sleep they got before their coaches woke them up for a grueling day of practice at their stadium in Romania. Perhaps this was different for her though. After all, they hadn’t shared a bed at the training camp. He had simply assumed with her dozen brothers she wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with a guy friend.

He went to speak but she shook her head, as if breaking herself from a daze, and climbed in beside him.

“I conjured Teddy a bed, so the floor wouldn’t be so rough,” she muttered. “But there still wasn’t much room out there so…”

“Ginny,” Draco started then stopped, feeling oddly on the wrong foot. “I can do the same if—”

“And I figured he’d be likely to pee in his sleep so I figured you were the better bedmate,” Ginny continued, ignoring him as she settled into the pillow.

Her ginger hair fanned out around the black of the pillowcase and he stared at it. What a startling contrast. He looked away, meeting her eyes.

“Unless you also wet the bed, then I’d rather stay out there with Teddy.”

Draco smirked, the strange feeling leaving him now that Ginny seemed back to normal.

“Why’s that? Prefer his pee over mine?”

“He has a smaller bladder,” she retorted softly, eyes fluttering shut as she twisted away from him. “Less pee on me.”

As Draco relaxed under his blankets, the lights throughout the room dimmed until there was nothing but the glow from the stars outside shining in. He let out a long breath, comfortable for the first time in twenty-four hours, and drifted to sleep.

)*(*)*(

As easy as Ginny tried to make it seem that she fell asleep, the act ended as soon as she heard Draco’s breathing even out beside her. She twisted slowly and turned to look at him. All she could see was the outline of his face in the dark. The only thing she could hear were his soft breaths.

He hadn’t thought twice about her sharing a bed with him? Ginny fought back a groan and covered her face with her hands. Draco was an absolute fool. But what did Ginny expect? The man sleeping beside her had no idea that of all the times she envisioned herself in bed with him none of the situations played out like this. 

Even through the covers, she could feel his body heat. Her hands twitched against her face, eager to reach out and explore the man beside her. Abruptly she stuffed them under the covers and clenched them into fists. She needed to sleep. Teddy would likely be a nightmare in the morning, up not long after the sun rose and full of energy.

This was not how she envisioned her Friday night.

Forcing herself to unwind, Ginny turned away from Draco again. It wasn’t till much later that sleep claimed her and, even then, it was not peaceful.

Ginny kept waking up throughout the night. Every time she’d wake up, startled and having to remind herself where she was, the endless thoughts of _what the hell was she doing here_ and _she was really going to regret this, wasn’t she_ would begin. It didn’t help her relax but she couldn’t make it stop and she’d fall back into a restless sleep where she’d dream of the man beside her, his sharp grin and his dancing eyes as he stood just in reach.

Then she’d wake up again. 

The vicious cycle continued for hours. When Ginny woke up for the seventh time the morning sun was shining in the room, brightening the furniture. She groaned in displeasure. Her eyes were heavy from lack of sleep and the skin on her face felt tight. Perhaps another hour of sleep, or two, would help her—

“You really are one of the worst bed companions I’ve ever had.”

Ginny jumped and looked over. Draco sat up in bed beside her, flipping through the Daily Prophet. When he felt her eyes on him, he glanced down his nose at her.

“Really,” he repeated.

Sitting up, Ginny rubbed her face, barely containing a second groan.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” she managed to grumble.

Draco pressed his lips together. For a moment, she thought he’d let the conversation die. Then he shifted, turning his full attention to her.

“Tossing and turning all night. Talking in your sleep. Once you even hit me in the face. You’d be a rather good Beater, Weasley, if that hit was any indication.”

She wanted to scowl at him but found a smile fighting its way to her face. When he saw her expression lighten, his eyes began to twinkle the same as they did in her dreams.

“I expect it would’ve been better for me to sleep with the Lupin boy,” Draco continued.

“I told you he would’ve probably peed the bed.”

“And that makes him a worse candidate than you? At least his hits wouldn’t have left me winded.”

Ginny pressed a hand to her lips to hide her smile. Then she lowered it, turning on her side to stare up at Draco curiously.

“Did I really hit you?”

He sniffed.

“Yes. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up from me shouting. But I suppose you Weasleys can sleep through anything, bloody monsters.”

Laughing, Ginny reached over and grabbed the Daily Prophet from his hands. Draco didn’t put up much of a fight, letting the paper slip from his grasp easily. She spread the paper out wide over the sheets and glanced at some of the articles. Honestly, the Daily Prophet would be just as useful written in gibberish. The articles were always rubbish and seemed to center more around celebrity gossip than actual news. 

That fact didn’t stop her from reading it every morning, however. Back at Hogwarts, Hermione had engrained it in Ginny’s head to constantly read the paper.

“What time is it?” Ginny asked, distracted as she turned a page.

Draco picked up his pocket watch from the nightstand and glanced at it.

“8:17.”

“Checked on Teddy yet?”

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

Ginny looked up at him, not surprised that he seemed genuinely confused.

“Because it was his first night in a new place,” she answered slowly. “And children tend to wake up early.”

Draco stared at her blankly.

“I’d rather thought after a night of sleep in an actual bed you’d look much better,” he informed her, ignoring what she had said. 

Pushing the paper away, Ginny threw the heavy covers off of her and started to get out of bed. She knew Draco was watching her, waiting for an answer. Taking a second to collect herself, she stood from the bed and started to head to the door.

“I didn’t sleep well,” she admitted.

“Dreaming of me?” he asked casually.

Ginny paused at his words. Sometimes she wondered if he realized how close he was to hitting home or if he was simply so self-absorbed he assumed everything was about him—not that he was wrong, for she _had_ been dreaming about him. She put her hand on the doorknob but looked back at him. His attention was on the Daily Prophet once again.

“Your bed is too lumpy.”

He looked up at that, his eyebrows rising, but she had already opened the bedroom door and stepped out. Loud bangs immediately reached her ears and she scrunched her face in anticipation. When she rounded the corner, she saw Teddy peeking out from under his fort. His eyes were lit up in excitement and his hair, which had been brown, turned ginger once again. He crawled out from under the blankets and ran up to her.

“You’re awake! I’ve been so bored!”

Teddy had changed out of his pajamas already; the discarded clothes were tossed carelessly on the floor beside the couch. His fort, which he had successfully finished building with Ginny’s help the night before (she only used a little magic, really, to keep it up), spanned completely over the drawing room, covering everything except one chair and Draco’s chess set. Amusement tickled Ginny as she eyed the room. Draco was not going to care for this at all. 

Her stomach rumbled slightly and she pressed a hand against it. They needed to find some food and, hopefully, coffee. She had an inkling Draco didn’t keep much in his cupboard. 

With that thought in mind, Ginny walked up to Teddy and ruffled his hair. He laughed but dodged out from under her hand quickly.

“Want to go find a café with me?” she asked.

He nodded happily.

“We can go exploring!” he cried out.

She nodded and went to turn, the idea of a quick shower and a fresh set of clothes being exactly what she’d need before they left, but stopped when she almost walked into Draco. He had on a silk robe and she bit back laughter at the sight of it.

“Merlin, you’re so _posh_.”

“So posh,” Teddy mimicked.

Draco narrowed his eyes.

“I was going to offer to show you where the café is—” 

Draco paused as his eyes swept the drawing room. Then he cringed slightly, glancing away from the clutter and back to Ginny.

“You do owe me,” Ginny reminded him.

He waved his hand.

“Go on, then, get ready.”

She grinned and stepped around him.

)*(*)*(

The streets were busier than Draco preferred but he recognized that it was Saturday, a day he normally avoided going outside, and tried not to let it grate on his nerves. By the time Draco and Ginny finished getting ready, the Lupin child was almost bursting with energy. It took Ginny yelling for him to slow down several times to keep him nearby. Then, when they got to one of Draco’s preferred cafés, the line outside was ridiculously long. But they had the best pastries in the small town that Draco resided in and it was worth the wait.

Ginny watched over the boy as he ran from shop window to shop window while Draco stood in line. Then they found a shaded spot under a tree, at Ginny’s insistence, and enjoyed their breakfast.

“That does sound like a horrible day,” Ginny allowed, after having listened to Draco’s story of his _atrocious_ first day with the child.

She licked each one of her fingers clean, finished with the pastry, and Draco’s nose scrunched. Her lack of manners was ghastly. 

“But, sadly, that’s exactly what every child is like. Victoire is like a Blast-Ended Skrewt when I watch her. It’s exhausting. Rosie is okay but,” she shrugged as she thought over her words. “once you get her talking, it’s sort of hard to get her to stop. Louis is still so young but dirty diapers and vomit is still awful.”

The way she spoke of those children was a mystery. While describing how annoying it was to watch them, there was an affectionate tone to her voice that Draco only ever heard when she randomly mentioned one of her family members. Draco looked over her curiously. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on them as she looked out after the Lupin boy. Draco could hear his voice, loud and energetic, as he played with some random child he had found. 

Ginny glanced over at Draco.

“Did you tell Teddy to stop? Or ask him to clean up his mess? Did you tell him why you were angry when he ran away from you?”

Draco scoffed.

“I’m not the boy’s parents,” Draco paused. “Or his guardian. Either way, I’m convinced he’s doing it all out of spite. He doesn’t want to be staying with me. I don’t want to have him here. He’s going to make my life horrible until that dreaded woman who calls herself his caretaker returns from her vacation.”

Beside him, Ginny started laughing.

“Merlin, Draco, you overthink things. He’s a _child_. He’s not doing anything out of spite—and if he is, it’s because you treat him like an annoying fly that won’t leave you alone. Just treat him like, uh, maybe, an actual person. Didn’t your parents treat you like a person when you were young?”

“A nanny watched over me when I was young.”

The laughter that had carried through her words died. Draco had looked away while he spoke and felt no need to glance at her now. He knew exactly what the expression on her face would be. Pity. As if he needed pity from a Weasley. While she had a hen of a mother hounding over her and her herd of brothers he had a nanny who had catered to his every need. While his mother had become loving and attentive when he went away to Hogwarts, she had been unsure of how to deal with him before then. Draco didn’t blame her. He hardly knew how to deal with the Lupin boy and only had to watch him for two months.

“My nanny never yelled at me, it wasn’t her place,” he added.

“ _That_ explains a lot.”

Scowling, he looked over at her to find a slight smile on her lips. She leaned towards him, knocking her elbow against his.

“Talk to him. Call him by his first name. Play with him. You did play as a child, didn’t you?” she teased.

Of course he played as a child. But not often with other children. Honestly, his only friend had been his nanny, in some twisted way. She had been strict but had a soft touch; it always calmed him when he felt ill or was irrationally angry. But she hadn’t ever reprimanded him. The one time she tried had been her first and last attempt. Draco never heard from her again after his parents dismissed her. But he was off to Hogwarts soon after and his mother made a desperate attempt to fill the void the loss of his nanny created. 

Ginny’s attention was off him once again, focused on the boy. She had grown up with more brothers than needed, likely showered with their persistent attention, taught to play well before she could speak. It made sense that Teddy enjoyed Ginny, that she knew how to make the child laugh with a simple pulling of her face and could make him stop running too far from them with a simple change of her tone. 

Draco could admit that he was using Ginny as a buffer so he didn’t have to deal with the child directly. It was a move of desperation on his part. After all, this was the most time Draco and Ginny had spent together outside of Quidditch and it was only because of this situation. It wasn’t unpleasant spending time with her, Draco did enjoy her company, but it was strange. The sun was shining, the grass soft beneath them, people laughing and chattering around them… and they were sitting beside each other, arms nearly pressed together, speaking easily.

If the war had never happened, if he had broken away from his father’s clutches sooner, if she hadn’t been so bloody obsessed with Potter, would they have experienced something like this while at Hogwarts? 

“What do you even do all day with a child?” he asked, eyeing the boy as he ran around.

Ginny shrugged.

“We’ll take it one day at a time. Today, we’ll hope he burns off all his energy here.”

It was an hour and a half later that the boy finally sat down beside Ginny and Draco, his cheeks bright pink and his forehead sweaty. Draco eyed him but, unsurprisingly, the child’s attention went to Ginny right away. His hair had mostly remained ginger throughout his playing with the other random children—Draco had thought they looked like a little gang as they roamed the park, close-knit like a pack of dogs.

Ginny suggested going home and playing some games. The Lupin child seemed to be okay with that, nodding happily as he got to his feet. Draco simply perked an eyebrow and held back a sigh. 

This day went much smoother than the day before; a fact that Draco couldn’t help but be extremely relieved about. Ginny was right, though Draco would never admit it, that after running around with the other children at the park the Lupin boy was absolutely exhausted.

When they got back to Draco’s flat, a letter awaited them from Andromeda. 

Ginny helped the boy write back to his grandmother, Draco found several menus from local takeout spots to show the pair, and the hours slowly passed. By the time they were ready for sleep, the brat was nodding off in his fort, mumbling random words as a response whenever he picked up on something Ginny or Draco said to each other. Like a mother, Ginny tucked him in.

Teddy’s hair changed from red back to brown in his sleep. Draco and Ginny shared a look after both noticing it before heading to his bedroom.

“Do you think he’ll fall asleep like that every day for the next two months?” Draco asked as he entered the bathroom.

The sight before him stilled him. Ginny’s things covered his sink, ranging from her toothbrush to makeup bag. Draco wasn’t sure why she bothered bringing the makeup. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen her wear it. Dirt and sweat coated her face more often than blush and mascara and Draco preferred it that way. Merlin, even the child had things in here. A tiny, purple toothbrush sat beside Ginny’s. 

Draco moved to his shower and opened the glass door. Unsurprisingly, toys were taking up far too much space in the tub. There was even a bottle of soap to create bubbles for the boy. Wasn’t he too old for that?

Frustration rolled through Draco and he took several deep breaths to force it away. Draco had shared bathrooms before, often with Ginny. And this didn’t even scratch the surface of what the locker room looked like midseason. It was simply that this was _his_ bathroom. His sanctuary. 

He was beginning to rethink his decision not to go to Malfoy Manor, where there would be more than enough room for all three of them. And a house-elf, so takeout food wouldn’t be necessary. 

“How do you feel about going to Malfoy Manor?”

Draco asked for a laugh from Ginny, sure that the idea would revolt her, but he heard no response from his bedroom. He walked out of the bathroom and stopped in surprise. Ginny was lying on his bed, taking up far too much space, eyes closed and breathing steady. Her soft snores were enough of an indication to him that the day had exhausted her just as much as the Lupin boy.

He finished getting ready for bed before crawling in beside her. This was how Draco pictured Ginny sleeping; sprawled out, taking up a ton of space with her mouth open a bit to let the snores escape. It was how he’d find her when his alarm would go off in the early mornings in Romania, as he tripped around the room trying to figure out if the shoe he was putting on was his or hers. Ginny never set an alarm at the training camps, far too used to Draco’s rushed shout of _Weasley, get the fuck up, I’m not waiting for you!_ He did always wait for her but only because she was remarkably quick at jumping out of bed and dressing quickly.

A small smile adorned his face at the memory.

Closing his eyes, he let sleep wash over him.

Sunday and Monday were spent much like Saturday. They woke at a decent time, Draco checked on the boy like Ginny had asked the first day then showered, Draco and the child stared at each other silently while Ginny showered, then they went off to the café. Sunday it was cloudy but pleasant. Monday it was raining but Ginny and the Lupin boy didn’t care and insisted they go to the café anyway. Then they wandered around for a bit before heading back to his flat, playing Gobstones or teaching Teddy—Ginny kept insisting Draco call the child by his given name and though it was hard and felt dry on his tongue he tried, if only to keep her face from twitching every time he addressed Teddy as the boy—how to play chess, as he had asked of Draco the first day.

Ginny was actually rather good at chess. She insisted it was because her moron of a brother was brilliant at the game but Draco refused to hear it. Ron Weasley would never be good at anything in his mind and nothing Ginny said could change that. While Draco had allowed her into his good graces, he preferred to keep the rest of the Weasleys far, far away. 

Monday, after a game of Gobstones, Ginny had taken Teddy to go get groceries so they could begin cooking instead of eating out every meal, allowing Draco a good hour by himself. He laid on his bed, listening to the sweet silence that had once been a constant in his flat. Their giggles and footsteps could be heard before they even opened the front door. 

Dinner that night was a mix of cooking between Draco and Ginny, with some help from the boy. Draco had always been good at potions in Hogwarts and Ginny had been raised in a house of wolves so, with their combined efforts, the meal came out half decent. Then the rest of the time was spent with Ginny reading some Quidditch books or magazines with Teddy, Draco staring out his window and wondering how he was going to manage this for another two months, the boy playing in his fort, Ginny making Draco help the Lupin boy write back to Andromeda, etc., etc.—it was an afternoon wasted.

The days went by slowly, painfully, but Teddy didn’t annoy Draco nearly as much as he had that first day and for that he was grateful.

“What is this, Draco?” Ginny asked him Monday night, when they weren’t so exhausted that they immediately fell asleep.

Draco looked up, cautious, to see Ginny toeing a basket that sat in the corner of his room. It was filled with yarn. He stilled then shrugged.

“Yarn.”

“Why do you have this in your room?”

Her voice was light, curious, but he could see her mind whirling as she held his gaze. 

“I knit.”

“You—what? You knit?”

He leaned back in his bed, eyebrows lifting. She looked drunk off of excitement at the admission, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“My _mum_ knits, Draco, is this really yours? I cannot—” She was half laughing as she spoke. “I cannot wait to—”

“To tell someone? Granger, perhaps? Or, maybe, Johnson and Davies?” Ginny froze, eyes narrowing.

“You say that like they already know.”

“No, I say it knowing that no one will believe you if you tell them.”

Her face fell and his lips twisted into a sharp grin.

“ _No one_ ,” he reiterated. 

She went to sleep without a further word but Draco didn’t trust that she wasn’t scheming anything. After all, she was the little sister of those two meddlesome twins. The only fond memory he had of a Weasley at Hogwarts was of the twins’ exit from the school, sending off rockets and flying off on their brooms. It had been irritating to watch but, simply, brilliant. 

Draco knew that her silence on the subject of him knitting only meant trouble later on.

When they ate breakfast Tuesday morning, Ginny having cooked up some eggs and toast, she didn’t mention it. Sometimes he’d feel her gaze on him but when he looked up she’d be looking at the boy or staring off into space. When they carried a chess board out to park, freezing the pieces so they didn’t startle any Muggles, she hadn’t brought it up at all, instead putting her full attention at attempting to beat him.

She failed.

That afternoon, the Lupin boy had his first Quidditch little league practice. They didn’t need to stay for the practice but it only lasted an hour and Ginny’s excitement at the prospect of watching little children fly a couple feet off the ground was enough to sway him to stay. He conjured chairs and they sat beside each other. Other parents stayed to watch also, mingling and chatting with each other, but Draco put as much distance between them and the parents as he could. Ginny didn’t seem too bothered to join the group either.

It was then that she decided to speak, as the coach showed the group of children how to straddle the broomstick.

“Hats, then?”

Draco glanced at her but she was staring straight ahead, watching the group.

“What?”

Her face was perfectly blank.

“Hats? Scarves? My mum is known for her jumpers.” Ginny’s eyes met his. “Maybe you two should get together.”

He glared at her.

“Think you’re funny, do you?” he drawled.

Her expressionless mask broke and she was suddenly laughing. Ginny reached out, wrapping her hand around his forearm without thought, squeezing it gently as she spoke.

“I never would have thought you’d take up knitting, is all, Malfoy!” Ginny teased. “I knew I’d learn some things from you, you know, since we’re roomies but I hadn’t ever thought I’d learn that you knitted.”

“We’re not roomies,” Draco grumbled but she was too delighted to hear his words.

His body suddenly felt hot; though he wasn’t sure if it was from the sun beaming down on them, the warmth of her hand on his arm, or the fact that Ginny was positively glowing as she laughed. He didn’t like it. But Ginny let go of him a second later to brush her hair from her face and a cloud covered the sun briefly and she stopped laughing—he felt better right away, able to tear his eyes away from her and look out at what was going on at the tiny pitch. 

The Lupin boy was wobbling dangerously on his broom, the tips of his feet brushing the ground. He looked like he was too afraid to go higher up, like the rest of the children were. Interesting. Was this his first time on a broom? Hadn’t he done the league before? Draco had never played in the little league when he was young but Crabbe had and Draco was quite sure that children normally started when they were about six. Shouldn’t the boy have had two seasons already then?

“He seems nervous.”

Draco nodded, not surprised that Ginny had picked up on the same thing he had. She was his equal in regards to anything Quidditch and was brilliant on the broom. Of course she would have her eye on the child’s technique. 

“Can I put in a request? A scarf, for the fall coming up? Purple, maybe?”

Annoyed, Draco picked up his chair and moved away from her. The bright smile on her lips couldn’t be ignored, twisting his stomach in some odd way that he didn’t want to think about.

Teddy was quiet when practice was over, walking up to Draco and Ginny slowly. But when Ginny bent down and nudged him with her pointer finger a smile broke out across his face. Ginny insisted on going out to celebrate Teddy’s first practice.

“Especially since you didn’t fall off the broom and break your nose or anything,” she proclaimed excitedly. “And you can write your granny after to tell her all about it!”

Her words brought Teddy to life. The whole dinner he talked about Bludgers and Snitches and Quaffles and did he really do okay? The boy took up plenty of time asking Ginny repeatedly about moves he could try next practice (none of which he could actually manage but she indulged him anyway). It was probably an accident but the child also smiled at Draco for the first time when Draco added to the conversation that all the children were horrible at practice and Teddy was hardly the worst.

The smile surprised Draco so much that he missed Ginny’s reaction to his words; the softening of her eyes, the way her teeth bit her bottom lip softly as she looked over at him.

)*(*)*(

“Get. A. Grip.” 

Ginny repeated the three words to herself at least three more times as she stared hard in the mirror. But it didn’t matter how many times Ginny told it to herself. She still felt herself unraveling. It had been three days with Draco and Teddy, three days of doing absolutely nothing. It should’ve been easy for her to keep herself collected as Draco destroyed her at chess or complained about the sun being too hot or noted lightly that the boy smelled and needed a bath with a pointed look in her direction.

But it wasn’t.

Merlin help her, she rather enjoyed that Draco’s odd quirks she’d witness during their time together for the Tornados also showed up continually in his time away from the team. He was a wanker and pushed her buttons and this wasn’t how she had meant to spend her past few days but… but he also was getting along better with Teddy than he had been a few days ago. He still made her laugh, even at the strangest moments. And he seemed to enjoy her company too.

It was almost too easy to see this as something she could do every day with Draco; going to the café for coffee, sitting in the park under the warm sun, playing chess in the drawing room, eating dinner at local spots, falling asleep beside each other.

This was all making her go mad. But, particularly, the fact that the days filled with Draco ended with her snuggling into his covers, him saying one last snide comment before falling asleep, was almost too much. He hadn’t even thought twice about her sleeping in his bed with him. She still couldn’t get over it. And, even more, Draco hadn’t pushed her to sleep in the other room at all. Though, to be honest, she would’ve killed him if he did.

Instead of finding something to dislike about him she found herself finding more and more things to enjoy. Like the fact that he always pulled out the chair for her, moving so automatically that it was obvious he had been taught to do so when he was younger. Like the fact that he always had the Daily Prophet ready for her when she woke up. Like the fact that he had begun checking on Teddy first thing in the morning, ever since she admonished him over it the first morning. 

It was small, stupid things that made her stomach squeeze and skin tingle and made warmth pool low in her belly. And she couldn’t make it stop. 

“Get a grip,” she repeated, leaning her forehead against the mirror and closing her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Ginny jumped and spun around. Draco stood in the doorway of the bathroom, cautious.

“You better wipe that smudge off the mirror,” he told her. 

Then he lifted his hands, smirking. He held a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“Figured we should celebrate too,” Draco said. “Since the brat fell asleep before nine.”

Ginny rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing.

“Stop calling him that.”

“I don’t say it to his face,” he promised. “Only to you.”

“Well, I don’t like it either.” 

She walked up and grabbed the wine bottle from his hands, turning it over to examine it. Ginny didn’t drink wine often, enjoying beer far more, so she couldn’t tell if it was a good bottle or not. But she was sure it was expensive and would be delicious, especially if it was something of Draco’s.

“Been holding out on me?” Ginny asked.

Her earlier turmoil was gone in face of her problem. Draco smiled, taking the bottle back from her. Together they left the bathroom and entered his room. Teddy had fallen asleep a while ago; one minute he had been jumping up and down on a chair, much to Draco’s displeasure, and the next he was conked out half in his fort. It was earlier than the other nights, giving Draco and Ginny some time before exhaustion claimed them also.

Ginny sat on his bed and moved over so her back was against the wall. Crossing her legs, she watched as Draco waved his wand and the wine uncorked itself before filling the glasses up generously. He handed her one before stretching out on the bed also.

Draco leaned his head against the headboard and closed his eyes. For a moment, they remained still. Her knees were pressing into the side of his left leg, her back against the wall, his eyes closed as he balanced his glass on his other leg. Then he blinked and lifted his glass.

“To the best wine you’ll likely ever have,” he told her, flashing his teeth as he smiled.

Ginny pursed her lips to hide her amusement.

“To surviving four days with a child,” she responded lightly. “A feat no one thought possible of you.”

He laughed deep in his chest. Taking a sip of the wine, Ginny relaxed. It was good, of course. Bastard. The taste was rich and deep, somewhat heavy as it settled in her stomach. But the wine brought warmth to her skin and she found herself taking another sip without realizing.

It was easy to fall into conversation with Draco. The wine helped too, of course. By the time they were finished the bottle, Ginny felt delightfully carefree. Her blood was buzzing and her body was relaxed. Instead of continuing to lean against the wall, she was hugging a pillow to her body, laying parallel to Draco, staring up at him as he spoke about their past Quidditch season.

Really, would it be too much to ask his face to not be so bloody perfect? Maybe a crooked nose? Or one tooth slightly out of place? At the thought, Ginny ran her tongue over her own teeth. Her teeth weren’t flawless. Why did he get to have everything? It would make this all much easier if he was ugly. But, no, of course not. Nothing easy came to Ginny. Her eyes trailed over the sharp line of his jaw, then his plump bottom lip, before looking into his eyes.

And… he was staring at her expectantly. 

Ginny jumped, tipping her wine glass dangerously. 

“What?” she asked loudly.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What were you just thinking about?” he questioned slowly.

Letting out an obnoxious laugh, Ginny pushed her hair from her face and forced a bright grin on her face.

“I’m drunk.”

“No, you’re not, Weasley,” Draco drawled. “I’ve seen you drunk before.”

His eyes roamed her face, searching for something, before dismissing her oddness.

“I asked why you’re still with the Tornados?” 

“I’m loyal to a fault,” she quipped, shrugging.

Draco looked about ready to roll his eyes.

“No, Weasley. Look, I—” He cleared his throat. “You’re not a bad Chaser.”

“Thanks,” she responded dryly.

“ _Listen_ ,” Draco snapped. “It’s just… you could get picked up by any team. And you know that, don’t you?”

Her breath caught in her chest as she stared at him. Maybe it was the wine. That was what was making him say this. Because Draco had never, ever praised Ginny in her life. Ever. 

“Is it possible?” 

“What?”

“That Draco Malfoy actually knows how to compliment someone?”

She burst out in giggles as Draco let out a loud sigh. But he looked like he was fighting a smile and Ginny leaned close, looking up at him.

“I’m making an observation,” he informed her.

“A kind observation. About me.”

“Yes. Now answer the question.”

Ginny subdued her laughter and leaned back from him. His eyes followed her movements but she ignored it, instead taking the time to stare up at his ceiling. The Tutshill Tornados were horrible. They had been since Ginny joined the team. She knew there was no correlation between these facts because, well, Ginny was really good at Quidditch. There was simply so much bad luck and bad management over the last few seasons that the team hadn’t ever been given a real chance.

The answer, the truth, begged to be told though. She hadn’t ever told anyone why she joined the Tornados, despite many wary questions from her brothers of why she’d stay with such a horrible team. But… she wanted to tell Draco.

She continued staring up at the ceiling as she spoke.

“When I graduated and expressed plans to start playing Quidditch professionally, almost every team gave me an offer. But it wasn’t because they wanted me to play. It was because… I had been with Harry. He’s a hero to everyone, you know? And every team wanted to be associated with him, in any way possible. None of the teams had even asked me to tryout.” A dry laugh escaped her lips but she swallowed it back after a second. “The Tornados didn’t offer me a position. They were the only team who hadn’t. So… I knew if I could get a spot on their team it was because they wanted me, not Harry. They made me work for it. I tried out half a dozen times.”

Silence followed her admission. After a long moment, she looked over at him, almost fearful of his reaction. Ginny never brought up Harry to Draco. That had been one of the things that bonded them initially, the fact that neither of them wanted to discuss the Chosen One. But here she laid out her shameful truth, involving the man Draco had always despised.

Draco’s face was blank but his fingers tapped the stem of his glass to a beat Ginny didn’t know. Heat colored her cheeks and she cleared her throat awkwardly, sitting up and making a show of stretching.

“Anyway, I’m tired,” she lied. “Might turn in—”

She lifted up the covers and shimmied under them. Groaning internally at how stupid she was, Ginny turned away from him and hoped the awkwardness would simply disappear.

“No team had wanted me.”

His words stilled her. Ginny looked over her shoulder at him but his eyes were diverted as hers had been when she spoke.

“To be linked to a Malfoy, to a former Death Eater, was taboo. Especially so soon after the war.” Draco’s voice was low, his words soft. “Nobody wanted to deal with the negative publicity of it. I simply hadn’t been worth it.”

Wondering what she could possibly say, Ginny turned to face him completely. He seemed lost in his thoughts. Draco glanced over at her, his lips tugged down in a frown.

“After a month of reaching out to different teams, inquiring after their Seeker position, even if it was only a reserve, the one team that had responded to me had been the Tornados. They made me tryout so many times I lost count. I knew they didn’t want me but… they offered me the position.”

“That’s why you haven’t left yet.”

“No one would have me,” he responded lightly. “And how do you leave when they’re the only one who gave you a chance?”

His words felt loaded, his eyes sharp as he held her gaze. Ginny wasn’t sure if there was more meaning to what he was saying. This bloody wine was twisting her thoughts.

Shaking her head, Ginny reached out and wrapped her small hand around his wrist. 

“I’m happy you’ve stayed,” she told him.

“I am too.”

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the second chapter! Thanks to everyone for reading and please review! Also wanted to point out that my inspiration for the interactions between Draco and Ginny about Draco’s knitting— that no one would believe Ginny if she tried exposing him— came from Brooklyn Nine-Nine.


	3. Chapter Three

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

It was a disturbance to their normal routine when Ginny took longer than normal to leave the bedroom Friday morning. Usually by now the unlikely trio would be heading down to the café to grab something to eat or Ginny would offer to put together a quick breakfast before coming up with some ridiculous way to spend their day. He’d be concerned, he supposed, if he couldn’t hear her moving about in his room.

But when it was beginning to take an obnoxious amount of time, Draco made some toast for him and the kid in order to delay barging in on her. He thought it rather considerate of him not to go in and bother her. After all, he owed her, didn’t he? She had given him no complaints about their arrangement and it had been almost a week since he ended up at her doorstep, asking her for help. He would wait a little bit longer, give her some more time to herself, before he burst into his room and demanded she hurry the hell up. With that in mind, Draco was left watching with very little interest as Teddy gave each of Draco’s chess pieces a new name. He rather hoped none of the pieces took to these new names, for Sir Tinker and Madam Pretty Prat were not something he wanted to utter to get the pieces to do his bidding. 

It was five minutes later that she came out dressed, her hair braided properly, wisps of red curls framing her face in a way that drew Draco’s eyes. Something was off. Usually Ginny had her hair thrown up into a ponytail with little thought, sporting a wrinkled shirt and old pair of shorts. This was certainly different. Something was going on.

The cup of tea he had raised to his lips lingered midair as he eyed her.

“Plans today?” he slowly asked.

He ignored the urge to frown as he looked her over. There was even more speed to her steps. What could she possibly be in such a rush for? And… was that her bag thrown over her shoulder? What the bloody hell?

With no hesitation, she reached over and snagged a piece of toast from his plate. An insult danced on his tongue but he held back—even if he had already put jam on that piece just the way he liked it. Thief.

“Meeting up with mum,” Ginny answered, mouth full of bread.

He scrunched his nose and leaned back in his seat, afraid crumbs would spray at him as she spoke. Ginny noticed and rolled her eyes.

“Am I going?”

Teddy must’ve heard what she said for he dropped the chess pieces in his hands, causing them all to scream and shout angrily at him. He looked extremely excited to go to the Weasley den. Ginny gave him a sad smile and shook her head.

“Afraid not, Teddy.” Ginny walked over to him and ruffled his hair. “It will be just you and Draco today.”

The Lupin child glanced around Ginny, his eyes surveying Draco in slight surprise. When Ginny headed back towards Draco, he wondered if his face was lit up with the same shock the child had shown, for her lips pursed in amusement.

“I told you Friday was when I’d go to see my mum. Remember?”

He did remember that she had given him that warning when he first asked her for help with the boy. But he hadn’t thought she’d actually leave him once she saw how utterly hopeless he was with children. Apparently, she had not an ounce of sympathy in her bones.

“You’re leaving now?” Draco questioned, his stomach sinking. “All day?”

She didn’t seem worried about responding. Instead she had opened her bag, rummaging through it, before nodding to herself.

“Weasley. Weasley?” There was a quiet note of desperation in his voice as the realization of what was happening washed over him.

Their week was up. Ginny was going back to her normal life. From now on, it was just him and the boy. It must’ve been apparent to her that he wouldn’t kill Teddy, whether on purpose or by accident, for she seemed wasn’t worried over the prospect of leaving. 

When Ginny looked at him, waiting for him to say something, his mouth became dry. What he really wanted to say— _what the hell am I supposed to do with this child for the next two months_ —seemed lodged in his throat. Instead he ran a hand over his face, fighting back a groan.

“What are you even going to do all day?”

That was certainly _not_ what he had wanted to ask. But, when she grinned at him, he found he was rather curious for her answer. Shifting the bag from one shoulder to the other, she leaned against the table.

“Dinner with my family. I’m thinking about doing lunch with some friends too, you know,” Ginny paused. “Sleep in my own bed. Put on something somewhat clean. Go flying.”

Draco wanted to tease her, really, she made it too easy sometimes, but he couldn’t. She was leaving. Eyebrows furrowing, he tried to think of what to say. Thank you? Please don’t leave? This is a death sentence without you? Ginny didn’t need him to respond, however. Walking up to Teddy, she pressed a kiss to his forehead that he tried to dodge before promising to see him soon. Then she walked up to Draco, winking at him, and wished him luck.

“Malfoy, you’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Teddy won’t let anything horrible happen to you. Right, Teddy?”

“Nothing too horrible,” the boy’s sickly-sweet voice agreed.

Draco wasn’t going to make it.

But, surprisingly, after having set up a routine over the past week it hadn’t been too hard to figure out what to do with Teddy, at least initially. Once Ginny left through his Floo, going back to her flat, Draco and Teddy headed out to their favorite café to get a pastry. They sat together at a small table outside the shop, watching the people who passed by in relative silence. Teddy didn’t seem too bothered; his feet were swinging happily as he hummed lightly, munching on his food.

They could do the park all day. But without someone there to entertain _him_ , Draco worried he’d get bored of watching Teddy play with other children. They could go back and play chess or Gobstones. But it was still so incredibly early that they’d tire of that quickly. He wondered endlessly about what to do with the boy until he was forced to make a decision, as their breakfast was done.

When Teddy looked up at him, his hair still ginger like Ginny’s, Draco recalled what she said planned on doing with her day. And, just like that, he had an idea. It didn’t take much to get Teddy to listen to Draco when they went back to his flat, packed up his two bags, grabbed his little league broom, and headed to the one place Draco hadn’t been too interested in going a week ago.

Malfoy Manor.

His mother had set up the Floo system so that he and Teddy could arrive easily, since Draco didn’t fancy Apparating with the boy and the flight on broom would take too long. When they arrived, Draco holding the little boy’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t decide to exit early, a house-elf was waiting for them. Ladbey, who had been with the Malfoy family for ages, bowed excitedly. 

“Madam says you was coming with the child, Master Draco,” Ladbey said swiftly. “I was expecting you days ago. It is a good sight, a very good sight, to see you home.”

Draco took in the house-elf, the familiar kind face, the anxious twist of his hands, the sharp white of his tea-towel, and was surprised to find himself smiling back. Then he looked around the drawing room, which was barley ever used anymore; it was simply there to impress anyone who was high up enough to be allowed access to Malfoy Manor via Floo. It had high ceilings, a large table that sat at least a dozen people, and an exquisite mirror with a scrolled frame on top.

After the war, when Draco had first come home, he hadn’t been able to enter the drawing room for months. How many times had the Dark Lord sat at the head of the table as if he owned the manor? How many schemes were drawn up here, plots to murder and rob and harm people? How many lives were lost in this room? 

It had taken almost two years for Draco to see the room and remember that not only horrible things had happened here. He had sat at his father’s side many times during dinner when he was young, laughing as his father recounted his day, Lucius barely containing a smile. His mother had read to him by the fireplace, the very one he only now stepped out of, her words short and clipped, her eyes soft and watchful. And he could remember his nanny allowing him an extra piece of pie when his parents weren’t home, her touch warm as she pushed his hair from his face.

Malfoy Manor had witnessed dark, terrible things in its past. But it had also been his comfort, his refuge, as he grew up. And Draco refused to forget that.

“I’m happy to be here,” Draco replied finally, taking a deep breath. “Ladbey, this is Teddy Lupin. He’ll be our guest here.”

“Yes, oh yes, of course. Mister Lupin, yous is most welcome here.”

Ladbey had always been excitable and friendly, something Draco’s parents had despised when they were going for a more sophisticated appearance. Now, though, his mother clearly enjoyed the attention the house-elf gave her or else he’d still be locked down in the kitchens.

“Mister Lupin?” Teddy repeated gleefully. “Did you hear him call me that?”

Tossing Teddy’s bags onto one of the chairs by the hearth, Draco lifted the boy’s broom up eyelevel to him.

“How do you feel about practicing some flying?” Draco asked.

Draco worried Teddy would say no, that he’d hear the slight caution in Draco’s voice and deny him. But Teddy’s eyes lit up and he barely contained his eager cry as he took his broom from Draco’s hands and asked where they’d be flying.

)*(*)*(

“Well, you’re certainly not a natural, like bloody Potter,” Draco said, tapping his fingers against the wall as he studied the little boy.

He hated admitting it out loud but it was true. Potter was a natural on a broom, had been since his first flying lesson at Hogwarts, and there was nothing Draco could do about it. No matter how many days he spent in the sun, exhausted and sweating from running the same maneuvers over and over, it didn’t matter. Draco could read the same books, get the same advice, go to multiple coaches, make his team practice for hours on end but _it didn’t matter_ —Potter was a better flyer and Draco would never beat him in Quidditch.

It had been a hard truth to accept.

But it was clear that it was an even harsher reality for the boy. He hadn’t meant to sound cruel when he said it but there were not many things Draco said kindly. This was the third time he had seen Teddy on a broom, wobbling and clenching the handle too tightly, barely able to lift his eyes from the ground in fear of falling. The first practice Draco had put it on his nerves of having to play with a group of children.

Teddy’s practice the night before proved that it wasn’t just nerves, though. The boy barely kept himself up, his long legs stretched so that the tip of his toes remained on the ground, to help him if he fell. Even now, after having taken him outside in a nice shaded spot, where there were no children or anyone else’s gaze except for Draco’s, Teddy still had trouble balancing.

Focusing on the boy, he saw that the child was scuffing his shoe in the dirt, his lower lip poked out. He looked immensely upset over what Draco had said. An odd feeling settled low in Draco’s stomach at the realization. Draco hadn’t meant to upset Teddy. It was simply the truth that Draco had spoken. It was better for him to learn the truth now than to keep looking up to Potter like he was someone that Teddy could grow up to be. Truth be told, Teddy was rather like Draco when it came to flying; he wasn’t a natural but with some hard work he could be _something_.

But Teddy likely wouldn’t respond to what Draco was about to say as well as he wished he would. As if she was standing right beside him, whispering in his ear, Draco could hear Ginny’s voice.

_Talk to him like you wish someone would’ve talked to you, you giant git._

“Look,” Draco called, hesitant. 

Teddy glanced up at him, his eyes a remarkably deep blue as he fought his sadness.

“Look, okay,” he tried again, clearing his throat. “You’re not a natural. That’s the truth, it simply is. Potter—”

“Harry?” Teddy interrupted, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Draco agreed, gritting his teeth. “ _Harry._ ”

Teddy ignored his tone, instead watching him curiously. Draco lost track of where he was going with the conversation and started over.

“I’m not a natural either,” Draco muttered. “But you don’t have to be a natural to be good. You just have to work for it. Potter hasn’t worked for anything in his life. And you’re going to have to, whether you like it or not.”

Running his left hand along the broom, Draco stared hard at it before glancing back at the child. Teddy seemed to deflate even more, his bottom lip more pronounced.

“He can’t teach you how to fly a broom properly because it came to him too easy. But I can. I had to learn. I know brooms. I know how to steer them with the slightest touch, I know what to do if they don’t listen like they should. And I can show you.”

Teddy’s head snapped towards Draco.

“You can?”

“Yes. But you have to trust me.”

The idea of trusting Draco clearly made Teddy uneasy. His features darkened and he was kicking at the dirt again with the tip of his shoes, making odd markings in the ground. Watching this display of uncertainty made Draco’s stomach twist. Was it really that hard for Teddy, a child, to look at Draco and trust him? He supposed he hadn’t given the boy many reasons to. 

Draco let out a low breath, guilt burning through him as the boy contemplated his words. He wasn’t sure what to say to try to help him decide to give Draco the benefit of the doubt. Growing up, Crabbe and Goyle had been forced to trust Draco, based off their fathers’ histories together. Then, after Hogwarts, all the former Slytherins banded together to help each other out in a world that wasn’t as appealing to them as it had been before.

It had been for survival, trusting each other. Nothing more, nothing less.

But then Draco had made the choice to play Quidditch instead of following his father’s footsteps in the Ministry. After so many years of torture and heartache, he figured it was time he did something for himself and not for the Malfoy name. 

Getting his team to trust him, getting _Ginny_ to trust him, was the first time he had truly worked at a relationship with someone else. Slytherins automatically looked at each other as equals in most aspects. But Gryffindors and Slytherins did not view each other that way. Weasleys and Malfoys did not view each other that way.

Building a relationship with Ginny was one of the hardest things he had ever done. And the most rewarding, by far. Because who was he able to go to in the middle of the night, knowing she’d accept him into her home with only a few hissed words and worry in her eyes, no matter the circumstances?

The realization left Draco feeling strange, a tightness in his chest he couldn’t identify. He trusted Ginny more than he trusted most of his friends, who had been by his side for over a decade. Before he could think on it further, Teddy spoke.

“Are you going to push me off the broom?”

“No.”

“Or leave me out here?”

“No.”

“Or, or, are you going to let me fly away into the sky and not come and get me?”

“Your broom doesn’t go further off the ground than here,” Draco reminded him dryly, pointing to his waist.

“Then, yeah, I guess I trust you.”

Draco sighed.

“Thanks.”

They stared at each other silently, appraising each other, before Draco inclined his head back towards the manor.

“Let’s grab something to eat and come back out here. I’ll have to get one of my old brooms anyway in order to teach you what I want to.”

)*(*)*(

It had been three days since Ginny left Draco’s flat. Three days since she watched the panic enter his eyes at the realization that she was leaving. Three days since she had tried to seem collected and _fine_ as she said her goodbyes.

Because, honestly, she hadn’t been sure she was ready to leave.

But it had been time; that startling fact became clear after the night they had shared a bottle of wine on his bed. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t easy but there was no way Ginny could continue spending every waking moment with Draco and not go absolutely mad. Anyway, he had a better grip on the situation than he realized. If anything, her leaving could help Draco and Teddy’s relationship grow.

“Anyone in there?”

Ginny blinked and look around. Everyone was staring at her. Face heating, she sighed.

“Sorry, sorry. Lost in my thoughts.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Neville responded, amused. “What were you thinking about?”

Hermione let out a sound of amusement, rocking in her chair as she thumbed through some memos she had brought home from the Ministry.

“Who is more like it.”

“Hermione!” Ginny snapped.

Hermione didn’t look too guilty as she shrugged. Neville paused, his hands deep in the moist dirt of his garden. Luna hadn’t noticed that Neville had stopped digging; her head continued bobbing to a silent song and her wand was directing the flowers that Neville wanted to plant in a line towards him. 

Several lilies knocked the side of Neville’s head as he stared up at Ginny.

“Who? You fancy someone, then, Gin?” Neville asked, swiping at the plant hitting the side of his face affectionately. “Is it who I think it is?”

“And who is that?” 

There was a growl in her voice when she spoke and she had to take a deep breath to contain her anger. She continued digging her hole, perhaps a bit more intensely than she had been before. Ginny glared at Hermione.

“Spreading rumors, hmm?” she asked her sister-in-law.

Hermione held up her hands. 

“I never told him. He already knew.”

“Already knew _what_?”

“That you fancy Malfoy, is all. It’s really not too—ow, Luna, can you stop this plant from hitting me? Thanks. Anyway, Gin, it’s not too horrible.” He paused thoughtfully. “Well, it’s a little horrible. But I’ve known for ages.”

“How?” Ginny shrieked, horrified.

If Neville knew then who else knew? Ginny had only ever talked to Hermione and Luna about her feelings for Draco but Hermione had promised she wouldn’t tell and Luna would never… 

Ginny turned her glare to Luna, who was still dancing in her spot, feet stretched out in front of her, toes in the dirt. 

“Luna. You didn’t tell Neville anything about Draco, did you?”

Neville visibly shuddered at his former school mate’s name.

“I hadn’t known I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” Luna responded dreamily.

Ginny dropped the small shovel she held in horror.

“You’ve told more people? Luna, you can’t be serious. Please, please, tell me, who else have you told?”

“Oh, no one else, only Neville.” Luna’s large, protruding eyes met hers. “He’s your best friend. I had thought he’d already know.”

Sagging in relief, Ginny looked at Neville. His chubby face was glowing from the sun and he gave her a small, kind smile. Ginny reached out to touch his arm.

“I hadn’t meant to keep it a secret from you,” she told him earnestly.

“I understand why you did,” he replied. “I’m not mad, honest. But I hadn’t realized you still liked him. Your Quidditch season is done, isn’t it? Do you miss him much or something?”

Hermione let out a quiet snort.

“She only misses him since she was living with him the last week.”

Ginny grabbed some dirt and flung it at Hermione. The older witch let out a cry of surprise before grinning.

“I hadn’t realized you took such pleasure in torturing me,” Ginny fumed.

“There’s not many other things to do. The Ministry won’t let me work as much anymore.”

Her hands ran over her swollen belly.

“Understandably,” Hermione added.

“Yes, well, if you were working we wouldn’t be able to plant these,” Luna said. “We haven’t hung out in a long while, have we?”

The group had formed when Hermione was pregnant with Rose. Bored and kept from work, Hermione had been driving Ginny insane, coming over her flat unannounced with books and questions and research ideas. Ron expressed concern that Hermione was going to have a mental breakdown if they didn’t do something. So, on a whim, Ginny had invited Hermione to Neville’s garden, where she, Luna, and Neville spent time.

Usually they lounged around outside, enjoying the weather. If it was too cold or rainy, they’d sit on his porch and read or talk. And, if the season was right, they would garden together. Neville taught at Hogwarts but lived in Hogsmeade, allowing them access to his house on the weekends during the school term. With it being summer, however, Neville had invited them over on a Monday. Between the four of them, they had all begun growing separate bulbs in their homes months ago. Now they finally had time to meet up and properly plant them in Neville’s garden.

“You’ve been living with Malfoy?” asked Neville, who had resumed planting the flowers.

Ginny gave an awkward shrug.

“Not _living_ , just… helping. He’s watching Teddy for the summer so I figured I’d make sure he didn’t murder him.”

“Teddy? Teddy Lupin?” At her and Hermione’s nod, Neville’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought Harry had him.”

“On Saturday, yes, but he dropped him off at Draco’s yesterday,” Hermione said. “Harry went to Teddy’s little league game, which he said wasn’t really a game as much as the children just chasing each other on brooms, and picked him up.”

It took all she had not to ask any more questions but, when she looked up and met Hermione’s gaze, she saw a knowing look in her friend’s eyes. Taking mercy on her, Hermione answered the question she couldn’t ask.

“Harry said he saw Malfoy only a second on Saturday. Apparently, Harry was a bit upset that Teddy couldn’t stop talking about how Draco had taught him to fly better on the broom.”

“He feels replaced,” Luna mused.

“If Harry wasn’t helping out Kingsley, he would’ve loved to watch Teddy for the summer. I think he feels it’s a lost opportunity,” Hermione told them. “When Harry dropped Teddy off at Draco’s last night, Harry said Draco slammed the door in his face. He was not amused.”

Ginny couldn’t help the tug of the smile on her lips. She could only imagine what that had been like for Draco, being forced to see Harry again after being spared the sight of him for so long. 

“Are you going to go back? Ginny?”

“Go back where?” Ginny asked, focusing on Luna.

“To Draco’s? Don’t you think he misses you?”

A reluctant laugh forced its way out of her mouth. Draco didn’t miss her. If he missed her, wouldn’t he have reached out to her? Asked her to come back? Wouldn’t he have come over to her flat again, Teddy in tow, asking to come in? 

“I think…” she began slowly. “That Draco has probably realized he can handle Teddy just fine. He had been really, really awkward at first but by Friday he had seemed okay. I—it’s just—I was there to help. That’s it.”

The three of her friends were all staring at her, different expressions on their faces. It was clear Hermione’s mind was whirling, figuring out an equation that Ginny hadn’t realized she presented. Luna was smiling, strands of her light hair blowing in her face from the breeze. But Neville was frowning severely, looking torn between comforting her or fighting with her.

“You can’t be serious,” Neville finally said.

Her eyebrows rose in question.

“That Malfoy doesn’t care for you.”

“Well, I’m sure he cares for her. They are friends, after all, Neville, even he’s admitted that,” Hermione reminded him.

“Yeah, but, I mean, Ginny, any person would be lucky to have you. He’s an idiot if he doesn’t realize you like him.”

“I won’t deny that he’s an idiot sometimes,” Ginny said dryly, earning a smile from Neville. “But it’s not like I’ve told him I like him. If anything, I’m trying to make sure he _doesn’t_ know, really. And, besides, if I was still staying with him I wouldn’t be able to hang out with you guys now or watch Rose Wednesday or do my laundry and sit by myself for more than two minutes with no interruption...”

“Speaking of… Rose’s probably up from her nap,” Hermione realized, sighing as she started to push herself out of the rocking chair.

Luna jumped to her feet.

“I’ll grab Rosie,” Luna announced, placing a gentle handle on Hermione’s shoulder to keep her seated. “You three keep talking about Draco Malfoy.”

“No, we’re done,” Ginny told her firmly.

“You’ve lived with him for a week, though, Gin. You need to tell me what happened.”

Pressing her lips together, Ginny eyed Neville, who seemed sincere enough, and Hermione, who seemed relieved to not have to get up. Over the last two days, Hermione had heard bits and pieces of what her week with Draco had been like but they were generally hurried whispers exchanged between the two women before Ron or Molly walked into the room. And Ginny would love to properly discuss what had happened with someone—who better than her best friends? 

Nodding slightly, Ginny began at her last Quidditch practice with Draco and the Tornados.

)*(*)*(

It had been after a week of sleeping at Draco’s flat, one night at Potter’s, and four nights at Malfoy Manor that Teddy seemed to finally realized that Andromeda wasn’t coming home anytime soon. Draco had watched the transformation happen right before his eyes. One second Teddy was rambling happily about Quidditch and some of the things Draco had taught him and how much better practice had been yesterday and how his granny promised to take him to a game if he was good all summer and the next second his hair had darkened, as had his eyes, and one lone tear slid down his cheek.

“I miss Granny.”

As much as Draco found his aunt annoying he couldn’t help but sympathize with the boy. After all, he had been essentially placed with a stranger who he happened to be related to and told to sit tight and behave. Andromeda had been writing Teddy every day, though, her owl arriving right on time no matter what. And, worst off, if they didn’t get to writing her back right away the owl would flap its wings loudly, spreading feathers everywhere, even though it was supposed to be resting for its trip back. Teddy also told Draco that on Saturday with Potter he had seen his granny through the Floo, her face smiling at him from the flames.

But it wasn’t enough. She was countries away and Teddy was left with his first cousin, once removed.

“Can I call her?” he asked Draco.

Draco blinked down at him.

“Call her what?”

“On a phone.”

“A what?”

Teddy let out a loud sigh.

“Is it a muggle thing?” Draco questioned curiously, his lips turning down in thought. “Sounds like a muggle thing.”

He had forgotten that Andromeda had been married to a Muggle. 

“Yeah, it’s, like, a phone that you put in your purse and you can send people messages, like an owl, but it’s faster. I even know her number by heart, she made me remember, just in case, she said.”

Teddy began reciting random numbers out loud, as though they meant something. Draco stared at him hard. What was he doing? Was that him calling her? Just talking out loud? And how was this muggle thing faster than an owl? It made no sense.

“Do you have one of those things then?” 

“A phone? No, granny says I’m too young still and I need to play outside. You don’t have one, Draco?”

It was odd, hearing Teddy call Draco by his first name. Ever since Ginny had left them on Friday, the pair had been forced to get to know each other. And once Draco began teaching Teddy some better maneuvers on the broom, the young child had become much friendlier with Draco; calling him by his first name, greeting him with a smile, talking to him nonstop, telling him absolutely every thought in his head. 

The whole thing was weird and both amused Draco and made him wary. What would Pansy and Flint say now if they were to see how good of terms he was on with the boy? He had a feeling they’d be more alarmed than anything else. After all, from the last letter she had sent him, Flint and Pansy seemed to think his lack of communication with them meant the whole thing was going horribly.

And what would Ginny think, if she could see the two of them now? 

He had thought of Ginny often over the last few days, at random times when she should not be on his mind at all. When Teddy had successfully remained balanced on the broom, no longer fearfully looking at the ground, Draco had immediately thought to write to Ginny about it. But why would he do that? She was with her family or relaxing—it would only be bothersome for her to receive an owl in the middle of it, after having left them that morning. 

When he had been forced in the company of Saint Potter he had heard her voice in his head right away, confessing to him that the only reason she had joined the Tornados and stayed with them was because they hired her not because of her relationship with Potter but because of her talent. And, though he hardly wanted to think on it, he had found himself waking up several times in the night since her absence. There was no reason for him to waken, no sound that startled him from his dreams, no bedmate hitting him accidentally in her sleep… and perhaps that was the issue.

Draco didn’t want to think he had become accustomed to Ginny staying at his flat so he didn’t.

“I don’t have any of those phones,” Draco told Teddy, coming back from his thoughts. “Where can we get one?”

Teddy shrugged.

Once again, without warning, Draco thought of Ginny. He remembered sitting in her flat, the light of her kitchen bright, the teacup warming his hands as he stared down at her. Draco could remember staring at the different colors of her hair—it wasn’t simply ginger, no, there was dark red and light orange and gold, if that was possible—as she contemplated helping him. Then she had looked up and agreed to come stay with him.

Hadn’t her flat seemed very muggle? He wouldn’t be surprised if she knew what one of those phone things were. Maybe she even had one. 

Draco didn’t hesitate, the plan already formed. 

“Let’s send Ginny an owl, shall we? You can write this one.”

Teddy hopped to his feet, no questions asked.

It was an hour and a half later that Draco and Teddy ended up Flooing to a random address. Teddy clutched Draco’s sleeve with his hands until they finally stepped out of the hearth. Warily, the pair stepped into the room. It was a small, tidy area with several couches, a whole wall of shelves (filled to the brim with books), and a black mirror held up on a table. Draco eyed the black mirror hesitantly, his grip on Teddy’s shoulder tightening, but the boy shook him off without a care and ran to it.

“A telly!” he cried out excitedly.

“Where are we, exactly?” Draco wondered out loud.

“Ron and Hermione’s,” Teddy told him distractedly, picking something off the table and pointing it at the black mirror.

The black mirror instantly came to life, startling Draco. He stumbled back, hitting the mantel of the fireplace, and stared as images of people appeared. What the bloody hell? He forced his eyes away from the thing, the _telly_ , and looked to Teddy. Unconcerned with Draco, Teddy was now seated on the couch, his full attention on the random people on the black mirror.

Wait. Had he said they were at Weasley and Granger’s house?

Draco glanced away from the boy and went to look around again. His eyes fell on the small woman standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and eyes dancing. How long had she been there?

“Ginny,” Draco called.

A rush of _something_ hit Draco then, forcing away his unease and bringing a grin to his face.

“Hello, Teddy.” She walked over to Teddy, ruffling his hair. The boy didn’t look up. “Hello, Draco.”

Ginny approached Draco, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Brushing nonexistent soot off his cloak, Draco nodded towards the black mirror.

“What is that?”

“Hmm? Oh, that? A telly.” At his blank look, she laughed. “A television. It’s a muggle thing that, er, shows films and cartoons and stuff.”

It was clearly hard for her to describe what this television thing was, for she was waving her arms around as she struggled with the task. Amusement flitted through Draco at the sight. It wasn’t often that he saw Ginny try to figure out what to say; normally she said whatever was on her mind without hesitation, as Teddy often did. 

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

She laughed.

“That’s okay. Maybe one day…” Ginny paused, an emotion Draco wasn’t sure of crossing her face, before smiling brighter. “Anyway, you need a phone? Teddy, you want to call your granny?”

Teddy turned around at that, no longer mesmerized by the thing before him. Hopping off the couch, Teddy rushed over to Ginny, wrapping his tiny hands around her arm.

“Yeah, please, do you have one?”

“Likely not. But I do, Teddy.”

A new voice joined the room. Draco looked over to the doorway and saw Hermione bloody Granger standing there, grinning as her eyes met his. She was, well, _huge_. Or, at least, her stomach was. After having not seen Granger for so long now, barely escaping her when she’d come to watch the Tornados play the past few seasons, Draco felt uncomfortable in her presence. Not just her presence, either. This was Ginny’s moron of a brother’s house too, wasn’t it?

Oh, fuck, was that their child?

With only one eye peeking from behind Granger’s leg, the little girl’s hair was wiry like her mother’s, though her skin was lighter. She was staring at Draco in distrust—apparently it ran in the family. Draco looked away from the child and back at Granger, whose head was tilted as she looked him over with that scrutinizing, pointed look she had worn since Hogwarts. Then she turned her attention back to Teddy, who was now tugging Ginny after him as he walked towards Granger.

“I’m sure Andromeda has an international plan, though it won’t matter much,” Granger told him as she handed him a small device. “Do you know her number?”

Teddy began reciting the numbers he had said back at Malfoy Manor, his voice almost sing-song as he opened the device and began pressing buttons. After a second, Teddy squealed a cry of Granny! before bolting down the corridor, leaving Granger, Ginny, and Draco by themselves. He’d include the menace at Granger’s feet but figured she wouldn’t cause him too much trouble.

“Draco,” Granger called, forcing his attention to her. “I’m surprised you thought to come to me for a telephone.”

“I thought of Ginny,” he drawled. “Not you.”

“Is that so?”

Granger glanced at Ginny, who was looking determinedly around the room and not at Granger or Draco. Draco’s eyes narrowed. What was going on? The moment passed, allowing Draco no time to think on it.

“I doubt I’ll be needing my phone back, I’m only going to work, so leave it here once he’s done and I’ll grab it tonight. Ron is on overnight training with Harry so don’t expect him back anytime soon. I should be home before Rose’s bedtime, okay?”

Ginny nodded, clearly used to Granger’s rambling.

“Going into work so late, Granger?” Draco couldn’t help but prod. “No sense of urgency, is there? I had thought you much more capable at Hogwarts.”

“I’m glad you had such high opinions of me back at school,” she replied lightly. That was not what he had meant. Before he could respond, however, she began talking again, a gleam in her eyes. “The Minister couldn’t meet to discuss the new legislation I’m to propose until later in the day. It’s a set appointment.”

“Going past dinner?”

“It’s called work, Malfoy. Something I’m sure you’ve never—”

“Okay, okay, that was fun,” Ginny said hastily, stepping between them with her arms up. “So much fun. But you’ve got to be going, don’t you, Hermione?”

Granger glared at Draco before forcing herself to look away. She visibly relaxed when Ginny smiled at her. The little girl stepped forward, raising her arms up as though knowing that Granger wanted to say goodbye. Despite being so very pregnant, Granger picked up the child and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Thanks again, Ginny,” she told her before passing the girl to Ginny. 

Then Granger grabbed a light traveling cloak from the hangers on the wall beside her, latching it around her neck. She disappeared from sight for a second before returning, holding a bundle of documents in her arms. Walking briskly towards the fireplace, she stopped only when she reached Draco’s side. He looked down in surprise.

“It was good seeing you again, Draco,” Granger said.

In one fluid motion, she took some Floo powder from a jar on the mantel and tossed it into the flames. Then she disappeared, the announced destination still lingering in the air after she vanished.

“What was that about?” Draco inquired slowly, turning back to Ginny with his eyebrows high on his forehead.

She was biting her bottom lip again.

“Pregnancy hormones?”

Down the hall, Draco could hear Teddy excitedly chatting away on the small device Granger had given him. 

“I don’t think you’ve met Rose yet, have you?” Draco stared blankly at Ginny and she grinned. “Draco, this is Rose Granger-Weasley. Rosie, this is one of my friends, Draco Malfoy.”

Rose, the hybrid of Granger and Weasley, didn’t blink as she looked at Draco. Her tiny arms were wrapped tightly around Ginny’s neck. She seemed as unimpressed with Draco as he was with her. At least they were on the same page in that aspect. 

“Another Weasley,” Draco said dryly. “Pleasure.”

“ _I’m_ a Weasley,” Ginny reminded him, rolling her eyes.

“But sometimes you don’t seem like it and I find I rather enjoy those moments.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed.”

“Duly noted.”

She deposited the child on the couch where Teddy had been previously sitting. Rose continued watching Draco. Thankfully Ginny began speaking again, allowing Draco to drop the child’s unwavering gaze.

“How’s it been with Teddy?” 

“Fine,” he replied, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, that’s good.”

Surprise colored her words.

“We’re rather friendly with each other now. Not quite on the family level yet but friendly level, yes, I’ll give us that.”

Ginny laughed.

“But you are family.”

“Legally, yes,” he allowed.

She grinned at him and that strange feeling washed over him again. 

“How have you been?” Draco asked quietly.

For a brief moment, the smile dropped from her face and she stared at him in alarm. Then she took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Oh, I’ve been good.” Ginny paused, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. “It’s been much quieter without you and Teddy around.”

“We could trade places, if you’d like.”

Covering her mouth with her hand, she giggled into her palm. Draco’s eyes roamed over her. She looked very pretty today, he mused, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was; her hair was down but messy, her shirt fitting but old and with a tiny hole in it, her arms bared and freckled, her cheeks kissed by the sun.

“Or you could come and stay with us again.”

The words left his mouth without permission. He blinked in surprise, his chest tightening as he wondered _why_ he said that. She had done him a favor by coming to help with Teddy but she had clearly needed to get away. Draco hadn’t been offended or surprised that she hadn’t written to him Monday, asking if he was alright with Teddy on his own. Ginny had pointed out how small his flat was early on and she’d been forced to share a bed with him when she had a perfectly empty one at her own flat. It didn’t make sense for her to want to come back.

But… but he forced his eyes to meet hers as he waited to hear her response. She looked as shocked as he had felt when the words had been spoken. Shaking her head, Ginny let out a strangled laugh, her hand dropping from her face.

“How about you stay for dinner first?” she offered.

“Here? In Granger and Weasley’s house?” he replied, looking around.

“Well, yeah, I’m watching Rose for the next couple hours. I mean, you don’t have to. I’m sure you have plans—”

Rose walked unsteadily on the couch towards Draco suddenly, her hand reaching out. She grasped onto Draco’s sleeve to balance herself, her light eyes staring up at him. 

“Hi.”

Draco frowned, wishing he could somehow tug his sleeve from her grip. Teddy was one thing but this… miniature human was completely different. He could break her. 

“Hello,” he replied, once his attempt at loosening her grip didn’t work.

He could sense Ginny’s amusement in the background. And, before he knew it, he was agreeing to eat at his former enemies’ house with their child.

)*(*)*(

Draco didn’t want to admit it but he was utterly fascinated by the television. Ginny had been the same way at first, though she hadn’t minded screeching to Hermione how bloody brilliant the thing was. But Draco had far too much pride and refused to acknowledge the large screen in the living room. She saw his eyes wandering towards it every few seconds, though, and made a point to set up some toys for Rose on the floor beside it so that the four of them could stay in the room and he could watch some shows.

As much as Draco was in awe of the television, Rose was in awe of him. Her gaze hadn’t left him once since Draco had first arrived. Ginny couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that spread through her as Rose continually walked over to Draco, grabbing onto his sleeve and gaping up at him. Ron would die on the spot if he could see how his precious daughter looked up at a Malfoy. 

She snorted at her thoughts.

“What?” Teddy asked excitedly, glancing away from the telly and over at her. “What’s so funny, Ginny?”

“Nothing, nothing. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Ginny had offered to cook, raiding Ron and Hermione’s cabinets to throw something together for all four of them. It wasn’t very hard; Ron always made sure there was plenty of food in the house and with Hermione pregnant her tastes were so random and strange they had more choices than normal. Leaving Draco to entertain the children, Ginny had stayed in the kitchen the majority of the time. Since there was arch opening that gave her a view of the living room, she found more enjoyment than she probably should have watching the trio before her.

Truth be told, her amusement mostly came from the fact that Draco hadn’t lied to her—Teddy was clearly on much better terms with him; constantly running up to him to talk to him about the shows on the television, laughing and then looking to make sure Draco was pleased too, cuddling up beside him before running back towards the screen. 

When the owl had brought a letter from Teddy, asking for a phone to call his granny, Ginny had already been getting ready to head to Hermione’s to babysit. She knew Hermione had a cellphone, that Ron carried one also even though he barely used it (he was still timid after his disastrous attempt at calling Harry the summer before his third year) so she had them head over to Hermione’s to meet her. Ginny hadn’t expected Draco to arrive looking _happy_ to see her. And she certainly hadn’t thought he’d invite her back to his flat, back into his day to day life, back to his _bed_.

But he had. 

And then, when she froze up and spat out the first thing she could think of, he had agreed to stay over for dinner, not insulted by her change of topic.

Perhaps she was stuck in a different dimension, where Draco enjoyed watching children and coming to see her, where she took time to think over the offer of staying at Draco’s even though she desperately wanted to, where Ron and Hermione’s daughter stared at Draco as though he was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Ginny laughed again, shaking her head. With a wave of her wand, the plates she had set up for each of them floated over to the large table in the kitchen. She was grabbing some water and pumpkin juice when she heard the pitter patter of the children’s feet as they came running in.

“Dinner’s ready?” Teddy asked.

“Yeah, go sit. Rosie, sit in that seat there.”

“Is Uncle Dra-co sitting with me?” her soft voice inquired.

Ginny froze. It was common knowledge in the Weasley family that Rose addressed everyone she liked as uncle. For a while, Rose had even called Arthur and Molly uncle. Each one of her brothers’ wives were referred to as uncle and Ginny still got called uncle occasionally, whenever Rose was desperate for her attention and Ginny was distracted. She nodded slowly, wondering how exactly to deal with Rose’s new title for Draco. She was torn between bursting into giggles and attempting to correct her.

The arrival of Draco in the kitchen, his face dark, stalled her reaction.

“ _What_ did she call me?”

She pressed her lips together to hide her amusement.

“Rose calls everyone she likes uncle.”

“Well, _I_ don’t care for it.”

“Draco? Are you her uncle?” Teddy questioned from the table, his eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were my uncle.”

“I’m your first cousin, once removed,” Draco told him, sounding as though he had repeated that fact many times over the past week. “And I’m not that Weasley’s uncle.”

“Then why does she get to call you that?” Teddy asked.

“She doesn’t. Make her stop,” he ordered, directing his attention to Ginny.

“I can’t.” Draco relieved Ginny of the pitcher of pumpkin juice she held as she spoke. “She does it to everyone.”

“Everyone?” Draco challenged.

Mostly everyone. Sort of. Ginny winced internally but offered Draco a wide, convincing smile.

“Yes, everyone.”

Draco took a seat at the table, waving his wand at the jug as he did so. Thankfully, he didn’t try to switch up the seating, probably in fear of upsetting Rose. If he had decided not to sit next to the little girl, she would’ve likely had a meltdown. Teddy let the subject drop, though he eyed Rose suspiciously as the jug poured juice in the empty glasses at the table. 

Satisfied with Ginny’s answer, Teddy began eating without hesitation. Thankfully Ginny had cut up his food already so she didn’t have to worry about him choking in his haste. Rose didn’t use silverware, instead picking up pieces of the sausage with one hand and scooping up the mash potatoes with the other. 

“This is revolting,” Draco said loudly, looking between the children.

Neither child listened, too distracted by their meal.

“Once upon a time, Malfoy, you ate like this too,” Ginny pointed out, smirking.

“Unlikely.”

“You were using silverware since birth?”

He scowled at her sarcasm.

“I wasn’t using my hands like a _barbarian_ ,” Draco told her.

“Ah, yes, I forgot how refined and advanced the Malfoy genes are compared to the average human.”

Draco’s scowl lightened into a grin. Ginny tilted her head, staring at him. He seemed… different from when she left him on Friday. She didn’t want to put it all on the fact that he clearly began to get to know Teddy better but maybe that was it. Teddy was a child and a part of Draco’s family; something that he had never understood before. Perhaps it was good for Draco to spend time with the child, opening up a part of himself that he never had. 

“You went flying?”

She focused on Draco, eyebrows furrowing.

“Sometime over the weekend?” he elaborated before taking a bite of his food. “Your face…”

He waved his hand over his own face. 

“What about my face?” she asked.

Draco let out a long breath, looking as though he was barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes.

“It’s tan,” Draco said. 

Ginny _had_ gone flying over the weekend, for hours on end. Usually Ginny flew at least three times a week but hadn’t gotten the chance when she was staying with Draco and Teddy. The sun had been warm on her skin while she flew, to the point that her skin became sensitive after her last excursion into the sky. She fought the urge to touch her cheeks, which were growing hot.

“Yeah, a few times,” Ginny finally said. “I heard you took Teddy out on the broom too.”

The sound of a fork hitting a plate made Ginny flinch and she looked over at Teddy, who had taken a hold of Draco’s sleeve in his excitement.

“Yeah, Ginny, you should’ve seen me! I can balance on the broom now and, um, my feet don’t touch the ground anymore. Yesterday, at practice, I even managed to grab the Quaffle and fly around with it. It was great! Draco told me that I didn’t need to be afraid but I wasn’t, only sort of, but he held onto the back of the broom until I told him to let go, which I did. And then he stayed next to me until I told him he didn’t have to anymore. He saw me yesterday, didn’t you, Draco? Didn’t I fly so good? Harry took me out on the broom too but he showed me the same stuff Draco did but I still had fun then too.”

Teddy’s face was positively glowing as he spoke. Ginny now understood why Hermione had said Harry was jealous over Draco teaching Teddy to fly. It was obvious the little boy had received great pleasure from it. Turning her gaze from Teddy to Draco, she was surprised to find Draco smiling at the child, nodding slightly whenever Teddy looked at Draco to confirm something. 

Her heart squeezed.

“Will you show me too, Uncle Dra-co?” Rose asked, eyes wide.

He cringed at the term but responded without commenting on her new nickname for him.

“If only to piss off your father—”

“Draco!” Ginny snapped, laughing. “Language.”

“I’m sure Weasley has said far worse things in front of her,” Draco drawled.

Rose was giggling along with Ginny, waving her hands excitedly. Bits of food flew everywhere. Draco frowned at the sight of it.

“Can’t deny that,” Ginny admitted. “Oh, Rose, you have potatoes in your hair.”

Reaching over, Ginny pulled out the random bits of food she found from the little girl’s curls. Then, pushing her hair back, Ginny looked into her niece’s eyes. They were blue like Ron’s. It was odd to see her brother’s eyes staring back at her. Honestly, Ginny wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing her brothers in their children. 

Leaning back in her seat, she went to take a sip of her pumpkin juice but froze when she saw that Draco had been watching her. He lifted his glass as though toasting her. She had a flash of the night they shared the bottle of wine, of the clinking of their glasses, her legs pressed against his as they relaxed on his bed. A shiver raced up her back as she lifted her glass and winked at him.

He grinned back. With Teddy still chattering about flying to her left and Rosie shoving her hand full of mash potatoes into her mouth to her right, they shared a silent cheers. 

)*(*)*(

“Do you believe me?”

Angelina caught the Quaffle that Ginny tossed to her easily, throwing it towards Roger without any hesitation. The older woman was frowning thoughtfully.

“Ginny, you know I want to believe you—”

Roger threw the Quaffle back at Ginny, whose fingers barely had a grip on it before pitching it back to Angelina.

“But what?”

“You’re trying to tell us Malfoy knits,” Roger laughed. “It’s insane.”

“And rather hard to believe,” Angelina added as the Quaffle left her hands.

Always a show off, Roger hung from the broom with only his legs locked in order to catch the ball. Upside down, he was still smiling widely.

“As much as I would love to believe it,” he added.

“I stayed with him the whole last week,” Ginny cried out as the Quaffle came towards her. “I think I would know more than you of what he does in his spare time.”

“Yeah but, Weasley, it’s also a bit hard to believe that you even stayed with him that long.”

“Why?”

“I think Johnson and I would both agree that if you had been with him that long he’d be tied up to his bed, missing practice, so that you could have your dirty way with him—”

Angelina laughed loudly when Ginny threw the Quaffle back at Roger hard. He barely caught it, his broom taking a dive from the force of the throw. Ginny grinned sweetly at him.

“You were saying?” she asked.

“Harpy,” Roger grumbled, rubbing his side. 

“Prat,” Ginny retorted.

“Hey, now, remember we’re supposed to be practicing,” Angelina butted in.

Indeed, they were supposed to be practicing. It was rather pointless, something Draco and Ginny both complained to each other about as they got ready beside each other in the locker room, but still mandatory. Instead of doing anything too intense, in fear of getting injured and wasting away their summer, the team had opted for an easy practice.

The Beaters were hitting a Bludger back and forth on one side of the pitch, keeping it far from the other players. The reserve players were having a small match between each other and the Keeper on the other side of the field by the rings. Draco was chasing after a Snitch high up in the sky. And the Chasers were tossing a Quaffle between them as they talked.

Roger and Angelina had become rather good friends of Ginny’s once they joined the team and had always teased her about Draco, even though she had never told them anything about her crush on him. Apparently, to them at least, it was fairly obvious how she felt. She hated it, hated that she felt like more and more people were realizing her feelings for Draco despite the fact that she tried her best to keep them hidden. Angelina and Roger were constantly around her and Draco during training season and then the following Quidditch season so she supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised they figured it out. After all, they were the two players of the team she trained with the most.

At least the rest of the team remained in the dark about it.

But now Neville knew too. She trusted Neville, really she did, but she felt like it was all unwinding in her hands. Which was why, when Draco and Teddy had left Ron and Hermione’s the night before, she had decided not to go back to his flat with him. They had shown up around the same time today in the locker room, everything normal, and Ginny couldn’t help but hope, perhaps, if she just continued seeing Draco every couple of days they could remain friends and nothing would get weird—

“Pay attention!” 

Angelina’s shout alerted Ginny to the Quaffle flying above her head. She darted after it, the wind loosening the strands of her braid, and she reached her hand out. The red ball spun in the air, the force of Roger’s throw strong, before abruptly beginning to fall. It landed easily in her grasp and she stopped mid-air, adrenaline pulsing through her veins, the familiar feeling bringing a grin to her lips.

“Proud of yourself?”

Draco lazily flew beside her. In his grasp, the wings of the Snitch fluttered, desperate to escape.

“You seem rather proud of yourself,” Ginny retorted. “How far did you let the Snitch get away before you went after it? Arm’s length?”

He shrugged, letting the Snitch go. It darted out in front of them, stationary for only a moment before attempting to zip away. Ginny’s hand shot out and grabbed it before the Snitch could disappear from their sight. She almost forgot how small the Snitch felt in her grasp compared to the Quaffle she held under her arm. Opening her palm, she looked down at it. The gold glinted in the sun.

“You were right,” she said, closing her fist around the Snitch. 

“Of course,” Draco agreed arrogantly. “But what about?”

She rolled her eyes.

“They don’t believe me about you knitting.”

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise before he scowled.

“Going to tell everyone, are you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind. After all, you had warned me no one would believe me,” she said, smirking.

“That is very true, Weasley. Perhaps I’ll knit you a jumper for your failed attempt.”

Below her, she could hear Angelina and Roger complaining about not having the Quaffle. Ginny looked down. Angelina was blocking the sun with her hand, glaring up at Ginny, as Roger grinned suggestively at her. He winked when they made eye contact. 

Shit, she forgot she was supposed to be practicing.

“Here!” she shouted, releasing the Quaffle from under her arm.

The Quaffle dropped through the air quickly and she heard Roger curse as he raced for it. She looked back to Draco, who was overly amused. 

“Going to your mother’s tomorrow?” Draco inquired.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

“The Burrow, yeah,” she paused. “Why?”

He shrugged.

“I was going to see if you wanted to meet up. I’m not fond of the idea that the Lupin boy is becoming my only friend. Other than you, I suppose.”

Warmth flooded through her and she shifted on her broom uncomfortably. If the fact that her face felt like it was on fire was any indication, she could only assume she looked like a tomato at his words. Ginny hoped he didn’t notice.

“I, for one, know you have at least two other friends by the name of Parkinson and Flint. They don’t want to spend time with you while you’re with Teddy?” Ginny teased, leaning forward on her broom.

She drifted closer to Draco. If she wanted, she could reach out and touch him.

“You’re right on both accounts. They are my friends but are rather horrible. Won’t come see me with the boy in my care,” he mused. “You also forgot Zabini is included in my group.”

“Ah, yes, all three of your friends.”

“Five total.”

He held up his gloved hand, fingers out, so she could see exactly how many friends he had. She grinned, delighted. 

“Think Teddy is having fun right now?” Ginny asked.

During dinner the night before, Draco had realized Teddy would have to come with him to the Quidditch practice. Then they would have to go straight to Teddy’s little league practice. Thankfully, one of the coaches, Ursula Booth, volunteered to watch him while Draco trained. 

“Hanging out with Booth? Unlikely,” Draco scoffed. “If he has any sort of taste, that is.”

Ginny snorted.

“Weasley!” Angelina’s familiar cry came. “Get down here!”

The pair looked down to see Angelina waving angrily at them. With a sigh, Ginny met Draco’s eyes and shrugged. 

“Suppose it’s time to get back to tossing the Quaffle around,” she grumbled.

“Absolutely pointless that we’re here,” Draco complained.

She made a sound of agreement and, before he could reach to grab the Snitch from her, opened her hand. The Snitch wasted no time escaping her grasp, its wings stretching and flapping rapidly before disappearing.

“You wench!” 

Despite his insult, he was grinning. Their eyes held for a second before he leaned forward on his broom and flew away from her. Her hair blew from her face from the speed of his departure and she let out a single, loud laugh. As they often did, her eyes followed his figure as it disappeared from her reach.

)*(*)*(

It was a well-known fact among the Weasley children that summer was the best time to visit home. Simply put, the Burrow came to life this time of year. All the vegetables in the garden grew wild, the weeds along with them, keeping her mum constantly at work. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight when stopping by to find Molly outside, knees in the dirt while muttering angrily about the garden gnomes. Across the field, she knew she’d find the apple orchards producing fruit, though not nearly as much as it would come August. This early in the season the apples were tart and juicy but quick to rot. 

The pond water would be warm, if she decided to venture out past the groves, and the grass would be high. The bird feeder that hung high in the tree that Ginny and her brothers used to climb was a constant post for birds of every color. Whenever she came home on one of her dad’s days off, she’d hear him humming in the shed or drinking pumpkin juice in the rocking chair while he looked over the flowers Molly had planted.

The Burrow was one of her favorite places to go, especially when her mind was whirling.

“Everything okay, dear?” her mum questioned, brushing off her dress as she came up onto the porch.

Ginny nodded, banishing the thoughts that had been plaguing her since the day before.

Merlin, not just the day before. Really, it’d been ever since she had decided to first stay at Draco’s flat with him. They troubled her even worse now, as she forced herself to avoid solitary contact with Draco. 

Was she doing the right thing by not spending time with him? Was she becoming too obvious? How did she stop her feelings from growing? Did she even want to stop them? Why wasn’t she with him? Why did she miss him so much? Did he miss her too? 

And, perhaps the thought that harassed her the most: Why didn’t she just tell him she liked him?

Maybe she was making it up but it seemed their relationship had changed, at least slightly. Weren’t his eyes softer now when they fell on her? Didn’t his smile seem to widen when they made eye contact? Wasn’t he visibly happier now when he saw her?

Ginny cleared her throat, running a hand through her hair. 

She had come to the Burrow earlier than normal today, with nothing else to do. She feared if she didn’t she’d end up on Draco’s doorstep, hoping he was glad for her arrival, anxious over the idea that he wouldn’t be.

“Come, sit, mum.”

Ginny patted the seat of the chair beside her. Molly smiled warmly at her, grasping her hand as she sat down. The chair groaned as her mum settled into it. 

“Angelina is coming to dinner tonight,” her mum said. “George told me a few days ago.”

“Really? I saw Angelina at practice yesterday, she didn’t mention it.”

Molly nodded slightly before turning her head towards Ginny.

“I rather think that George likes Angelina, don’t you? Quite a bit?” Molly asked, eyes hopefully.

Ginny couldn’t help but grin. If there was one thing true about her mum, it was that she desperately wanted each of her children to find a partner and begin a family. Of course, Molly had always cared about her children more than anything else. Growing up, Ginny had never felt she lacked love from her mum. Each child was special in a different way in Molly’s eyes. Each child was her main concern.

After the war, though, George became her mum’s central worry. He had lost Fred. Everyone had lost Fred, of course, but it was different for George. The rest of the siblings understood that they could deal with the loss of their brother by themselves—but if they didn’t allow their mum to help try to fix George, to focus all her attention on him, they would lose him too.

And what Molly spoke was true. Angelina and George had been close since Hogwarts, though Ginny thought that Fred had favored Angelina more during that time. Whether that was true or not, Ginny supposed she’d never know. But since the Final Battle, and the reconstruction of the wizarding world, Angelina spent any time not at Quidditch with George. Perhaps there was something growing there.

“We all like Angelina,” Ginny answered instead. “Of course, you spend the most time—”

A sharp, quick knock from the front of the house startled Ginny into silence. Molly frowned in surprise.

“Wonder who that could be?”

When Molly went to sit up, Ginny jumped to her feet, using her hand to gently keep her mum seated. 

“I’ll get it. Want something to drink too? Water, maybe?”

“Oh, yes, dear, that would be wonderful.”

Ginny went through the back door into the kitchen. Sometimes the local muggle children would come by the house, asking for any spare vegetables for their dinner. Apparently, her mum grew the best vegetables in the village. Of course, the fact that she used some magic wasn’t known to anyone but the occupants of the Burrow. What the muggles didn’t know wouldn’t harm them. 

Pulling open the front door, Ginny went to say hello before freezing.

“Draco?”

The sight that greeted her forced the air from her lungs. Standing on the front step of the Burrow, with a drenched handkerchief pressed to his nose, Draco merely raised his eyebrows. The paleness of his skin was beginning to purple under his eyes and his hair was blown back, as though he had been dueling. And, behind him, stood Teddy, who looked startled and frightened.

“Hello, Weasley. Are you going to invite me in? Or should I hope that someone with better manners might come to the door soon?”

)*(*)*(


	4. Chapter Four

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Something must have shown on her face for Draco lowered the handkerchief, frowning.

“I’m not bleeding anymore,” he told her.

His words were soft and they would have been comforting had he not exposed his nose to her. She gasped at the sight. Draco’s nose, which was normally straight and sharp, was swollen and bruised; the bruising was an ugly yellow and green that was rapidly darkening, promising to evolve into a deep purple. Ginny reached out on instinct, pressing her hand against his jawline.

“What happened?” she breathed.

Draco’s eyebrows rose high and she shook her head in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Come in, you git.”

Ginny stepped back quickly, allowing Draco and Teddy entry into the Burrow. Teddy had his hands wrapped up in the back of Draco’s shirt and his lower lip was shaking, a sight that startled Ginny almost as much as Draco showing up unannounced, beaten to a pulp. 

She shut the door, worry nipping at her, but Draco had already stopped walking and had turned to face her. Now that she was over the initial shock of his arrival, her eyes roamed over him, taking in as much as she could. His hands were shaking and his breathing was quick. Draco’s neck was flushed and, along with the bruising on his face, she could see a pink tint on his cheeks. Had he really just dueled?

Before she could ask, his eyes left hers in order to meet Teddy’s.

“Go sit, will you?” he ordered.

His words were direct but lacked any hostility.

“Go on, Teddy,” Ginny said, when he wouldn’t let go of Draco. “There are cookies in the kitchen, if you want some.”

Molly always baked before having the family over for their traditional Friday night meal.

Teddy looked up at her and she gave him a tentative smile. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded to himself and let go of Draco. Once he was out of sight, Ginny took two quick steps to Draco. His breath warmed her face as she stared up at him. Without a second thought, she reached up to move the handkerchief from his nose, where Draco had again placed it.

She winced.

“What the hell happened to you?”

Draco shook his head and her stomach sank. Was he going to ignore her question? But then he let out a long sigh.

“Some bloke thought he’d play hero and force me to pay for all the wrong my family has done in the past.” Though his words were light, mocking, there was a hardness that Ginny hadn’t seen in years painted on his face.

“With Teddy there?” Ginny almost growled. “Where were you?’

While they spoke, Ginny took her wand from the holster on her hip and tried to do something about the swelling. Not much changed. He must’ve been punched in the nose, she realized with a grimace. The skin under his eyes was darkening even still and his nose remained abnormally large. 

Growing up with six brothers, Ginny knew a handful of healing spells that helped heal scratches and bumps. But broken noses? Not so much. 

“Diagon Alley. Teddy wanted to look at that new damn broom they released so I took him.”

“Who was it?”

“Likely one of your old friends.” At her severe look, his lips curled upwards, in a small, familiar smile. “Dumbledore’s Army, wasn’t it? Still trying to save the world.”

“Shut it,” she muttered.

But tension she hadn’t realized was there disappeared with his teasing words. Worriedly, she bit her lip. 

“So you came here?” Ginny asked.

An odd look crossed Draco’s face.

“I… forgot Teddy was there for a moment, after the fool first hit me. And then I saw the boy, looking frightened and about to cry, and his knee was cut open from when I shoved him away and… I’m afraid I might’ve reacted a bit harshly. Hexed the man. I can’t even remember what curse I used, to be honest. It will surely be in the papers tomorrow.”

Dramatically, Draco threw his hands up.

“ _Malfoy heir follows father’s footsteps, attacks innocent bystanders in Diagon Alley,_ ” he said with a flourish.

A grin cracked across her face.

“The owners will love that,” Ginny quipped.

Draco’s smirk grew.

“Ginny? What’s this?”

Draco and Ginny looked away from each other in surprise. Stomach dropping, Ginny realized she had forgotten her mum was here. Teddy stood beside Molly’s hip, two cookies in his right hand and one in his left. He lifted the one up slowly, taking a bite. Ginny’s eyes raked over him, guilt flooding her system when she noticed the cut on Teddy’s leg that Draco had mentioned. She hadn’t even thought to look over the boy. But, other than the small wound, he seemed fine.

“Mum! I—”

“Teddy said you’d been attacked?” Molly asked, turning her attention from her daughter to Draco. “Is that right?”

“Mrs. Weasley,” Draco greeted slowly.

The amusement that had been painted across his face was gone. Now his expression was blank.

The tension that had left Ginny only moments ago came back full force. It had been deliberate, her attempt at keeping her family separate from Draco. Whenever they came to watch her play with the Tornados they never ran into the person who was once their sworn enemy. Ginny had always believed it was both because she tried to keep them away from Draco and because he tried to stay away from them. But here he was now, standing in the hall of her childhood home.

She met her mum’s gaze.

“Mum,” she started again, licking her suddenly dry lips. “You remember Draco? He’s on my team. The Seeker.”

Ginny purposely avoided using his last name but it didn’t matter. Molly knew the man that stood in her home.

“Of course,” her mum said. “You look identical to your father, Draco.”

This was horrible. If it was possible, Ginny would’ve liked the floor to swallow her whole. Instead she was forced to switch her weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting between Molly and Draco.

“Yes, well, it’s a pity since my association with my father tends to get me trouble. Rather like this.”

He waved at the general area of his nose. Molly’s face softened as she looked over him. Ginny could only imagine what was going through her mind. Her mum was a nurturer by nature but had despised the Malfoy family for ages. Did she take care of Draco? Or did she ask him to leave? 

“Are you going to help his nose? Is it going to look like that forever?”

Teddy’s voice startled the three adults. Molly glanced down at the boy, her lips turning up in a gentle smile. 

“No, no, I can fix it. Does your leg hurt much, dear?” Molly questioned.

Taking a moment to stop eating his cookie, Teddy lifted his injured leg off the ground. He grinned proudly at the adults.

“Not at all! Will it scar, you think? Will it look cool? I can’t wait to tell Granny. One minute we were looking at the broom then BAM! That guy came up and Draco shoved me and—”

Teddy kept talking but the three adults looked back at each other. His words seemed to make the decision for Molly and she approached Draco with no hesitation. 

“Pushed him out of the way?” she questioned.

“I didn’t mean for him to fall,” was all Draco said, eyeing Molly warily.

“Of course not. Come, let’s go in the kitchen. You’re nearly as tall as Ron and I won’t be able to do a thing without you sitting.”

With a wave of her hand, Molly ushered Draco out of the hall and into the other room, leaving Ginny and Teddy behind. Ginny bent so she was eyelevel with the boy.

“Are you okay?”

He hesitated, his excitement disappearing.

“It was scary. The guy came out of nowhere. Draco wasn’t even looking. Harry always says it’s not a fair fight if they’re not looking.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t very nice,” Ginny agreed, battling the anger that was boiling her blood. “Want to go watch my mum fix up Draco’s nose?”

“Wicked!” 

Teddy grabbed her hand and followed her into the kitchen.

)*(*)*(

The Burrow, as the sign outside the rickety house had dubbed it, was not quite what Draco had expected when he made fun of it all those years ago. He had pictured something closer to, well, a barn. But this wasn’t a barn and didn’t smell of farm animals like he had believed it would. No, there was a sweet cinnamon aroma that lingered in the air, reminding him of Christmas day at Hogwarts. Dozens of pictures in crooked frames adorned the walls, giving him glimpses of the Weasley family everywhere he looked. In the kitchen, pots and pans worked by themselves to scrub the residue of food off. 

The house was worn and battered, like most of the things he had mocked Ginny’s idiot brother for at Hogwarts, but there was something _warm_ about this place. It wasn’t simply a house, it was a home; something Draco wasn’t sure he had ever truly been to or enjoyed before. And, rather suddenly, he understood why Ginny was the way she was, having grown up somewhere like this.

It made his stomach knot unpleasantly.

Draco wasn’t sure, truthfully, why he had apparated to the Burrow instead of going home or Pansy’s or _anywhere_ else. One second he was listening to Teddy talk about the broom showcased in the window and the next someone had grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around, before socking him in the face. His back had hit the window with a loud crack. Everything had hurt; the surprise of the attack made it impossible for him to mask his pain. When he looked up and saw Teddy on the ground, Draco could barely process his thoughts. He hadn’t even remembered that he had pushed Teddy out of the way till the boy reminded him after. And when the man who had attacked him began yelling about Death Eaters and injustice and asking _who let a Malfoy watch their child_ , he had reacted on instinct.

The hex flew from his lips as the crowd screamed around him, he ran forward and grabbed Teddy, then apparated. It wasn’t the first time Teddy had apparated, clearly, for the boy seemed more shaken by what had happened at Diagon Alley than the trip away from it. He was trembling and the skin of his leg was torn and, fuck, if Draco ever saw that man again he would _kill_ him for scaring the kid so badly—

When he had looked up and realized where he was, Draco had immediately gone to find Ginny. 

Even worse, after avoiding Ginny’s family for so long, years of dodging their company at games and such, he had walked right into the lions’ den. His father would kill him if he saw Draco now; wounded and tired, taking care of a werewolf’s son and being tended to by a blood traitor. Hating his thoughts, that he could hear his father’s sneering voice in his head, Draco focused on the older woman before him. Molly Weasley had tender eyes and a kind smile. The wrinkles by her lips warned Draco of the stern berating he would’ve likely received if it weren’t for the Lupin boy’s agreeance to his story.

The hen of the house’s wand work was flawless, though, as she healed his nose and reduced the swelling. Behind her, Teddy was seated on the kitchen counter with Ginny’s help. Ginny was pulling faces at the boy, forcing reluctant laughs from him. She had been doing so ever since Molly took charge of healing Draco and it was something she was rather good at—making people laugh whether they wanted to or not.  
How many times had Ginny done the same to him?

Wasn’t that how they had become friends?

With a final wave of her wand, the pain in his nose disappeared. Molly leaned back, viewing her finished work with a sharp look. She seemed to think it was good enough, though she didn’t step away from Draco. _Why_ was she staring at him like that? Was his face permanently damaged? He fought the urge to check his nose. 

“I’m happy nothing worse happened,” she said quietly, for only him to hear.

Surprise flitted through Draco.

Molly paused, struggling to pick her words, and Draco watched silently. What was he supposed to say to this woman? Thank her? Agree with her? Draco had called her… horrible things over the years and, now, he could only hope none of it had ever reached her ears. And if it had… it only made her that much better of a person for allowing him entry to her home when he was hurt.

Her face changed and Draco knew that whatever she had wanted to say wouldn’t be spoken anytime soon. Instead, Molly brushed her hands off and stood up. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Draco was already shaking his head no before she finished the question.

“Well, then, perhaps Ginny can show you the apple orchards and you can pick something for a pie I was planning on baking for the family later, hmm?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny glance at him, a smile brightening her face. He wasn’t sure how to say no so, instead, he gave Molly a small nod.

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Teddy, dear, do you want a sandwich?” Molly asked.

Teddy nodded his head eagerly as Draco stood from his spot.

There was an odd look in Molly’s eyes as she looked between Draco and Ginny. He wasn’t sure what it was but it made him feel as though she were trying to read him, read _them_. Ginny’s cheeks flushed under her mother’s gaze.

“Go on, then,” she finally said. “Grab a basket on the porch, Ginny.”

Ginny motioned for him to follow her out the back door and he did, not wanting to be left with Molly Weasley any longer than he had to be. As soon as the door shut behind him, he stilled. The backyard of the Burrow was as large as Malfoy Manor’s, though nothing about the two yards was similar. Overgrown with weeds, wild flowers, and barely managed vegetables, the high grass barely showed the tips of the garden gnomes’ hats as they marched along the fence. 

Who even had garden gnomes still? And why didn’t someone trim back the grass? Did they actually eat the vegetables from this garden? Merlin, his mother would age twenty years if the garden at Malfoy Manor ever looked anything close to this. 

Draco peeked at Ginny, who had a basket balanced on her hip and was watching him.

“Let’s go before she comes out to see what we’re doing, yeah?” Ginny suggested.

With a quick nod, he jumped off the porch and followed her through the garden, past a tiny shed, and up a hill. He wondered where their property ended. Ginny walked at a brisk pace, the path clearly one she knew by heart. Above them, the sun hung high, the only comfort from heat arriving from the few clouds that lazily drifted through the sky.

Ginny didn’t speak at all and, initially, Draco had brushed it off as her leading the way. But after five minutes of silence, he reached for her, grabbing her elbow to get her attention. She stopped at his touch, whipping around to stare at him. Her brown eyes blazed and he fought the urge to release her.

“What?” was all he could think to say, wavering at the sight of her glare.

She let out a loud huff.

“I can’t stop thinking about what happened. Teddy said the guy attacked you from behind—”

“Indeed.”

“What a _coward_ ,” she hissed. “With Teddy there! He could’ve been hurt. _You_ could’ve been hurt worse—”

“I’m fine, Weasley.”

“Was it really someone who used to be in the D.A.?” 

“What? No, I was joking—”

“How could someone do that?”

“If I find him, I’ll ask him that first.” When she didn’t laugh, he sighed. “Ginny, really—”

Saying her first name seemed to release her from her rage. She stared up at him, her expression changing.

“I’m so sorry, Draco.”

Her voice broke when she spoke those four words and the fire that raged in her eyes was doused with a sadness he wasn’t used to seeing from her. The grip he had on her elbow now felt necessary for the world around him came to a complete stop as he stared at Ginny—or, at least, it felt as if it had.

His throat was dry and he tried to swallow but it was painful. Everything about Ginny Weasley was intense; her fury, her joy, her sorrow, and, apparently, her remorse. She was apologizing to Draco for some prat she had never met. Ginny had absolutely nothing to do with it, hadn’t been anywhere in the area, yet her gaze was borderline heartbroken as she stared at him.

“Why?” he croaked. “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?”

Ginny closed her eyes briefly.

“You didn’t deserve that. And, who knows, if we had never played on the Tornados together maybe I would’ve done something similar to you in anger—”

“You would’ve never attacked me in the middle of Diagon Alley with my back turned,” Draco assured her, laughing at the idea. “You’ve too much honor for that.”

She took a deep breath and shook her head.

“I was angry for so long. When you first joined the team, I was furious and hurt and who knows what I would’ve done if…” Ginny trailed off, looking utterly exhausted.

Draco stepped closer to her, his grip on her elbow tightening as he bent his head to speak.

“Are you actually trying to suggest that you’re cowardly? Or spineless? Ginny Weasley? _The_ Ginny Weasley?” One corner of her lips curled. “The one who vandalized each of the tables in the Great Hall my seventh year, using permanent paint to write out _Dumbledore’s Army, still recruiting_.”

“How’d you know that was me?” she asked, laughing.

“Lucky guess,” he drawled. “Cunning? Devious? Yes. Cowardly? Stooping low enough to attack a man with a child? No. That’s not you.”

Ginny stared at him hard for a moment, her smile still lingering on her lips. That odd feeling was twisting in his gut again, the one he’d begun to feel anytime Weasley did something surprising or he found his eyes slow to leave hers as she laughed with him, or… or… it’d been happening far too much, really. Then she let out a sigh, tilting her head.

“You know, I should be the one comforting you. You have the bruised face and all.”

Draco let go of her to reach up and touch his nose. 

“It’s bruised still?”

“Horribly,” Ginny admitted. “Spells don’t fix bruising, do they?”

“No, I suppose they don’t,” he agreed with a frown.

His fingers traced the line of his nose, smooth as it had been before he’d been attacked. The skin did feel a bit tender but nothing that would alert him that it was still purple. Ugh, great. 

The pair began walking again. 

Draco wasn’t sure how long they had stayed out by the orchards. Ginny picked apples off the branches, talking to him about growing up at the Burrow. She didn’t seem to have a direction with the conversation and never really checked to see if he was listening or not but she needn’t worry. He wouldn’t have been able to stop listening even if he wanted to. 

She had shown him the pond on the property, dipping her feet into it with no hesitation and splashing him when he refused to come closer. Then she showed him the various trees that the Weasley siblings had climbed throughout their childhood, always daring each other to go higher, higher, higher. No wonder Ginny was so fearless. Some of those trees she claimed to climb to the top of were bloody tall. 

On the way back to the house, she opened the shed and let him peer in. There were random gadgets he didn’t know the names of, things torn apart and put back together in a way that didn’t seem quite right. Her father’s workshop, she told him proudly.

The day had been shocking since the turn of events at Diagon Alley. But coming to Ginny’s childhood home, exploring a house that had once been the bane of the Death Eater’s existence, and being given the opportunity to understand why she was the way she was was an unexpected treat. Now, after delivering the apples to Molly and helping wash them off, they sat on the edge of the porch. Ginny’s arm was warm against his as they stared out at her yard.

Against his better judgement, Draco couldn’t deny the magic that filled the land here. Seven children born to pureblood parents. Six boys who roamed the grass as children, playing and teasing and using accidental magic when they were angry or upset or happy. The youngest, a daughter, who made up her own rules when she couldn’t play with the boys. A daughter, the first born in generations, who rotated flying her brothers’ brooms when they weren’t looking. Plants that muggles would never be allowed blooming in a large garden beside garden gnomes, who were at general peace with the owners of the property. Apples that tasted far too tart, far too delicious, to have been planted by a muggle.

The land reeked of magic.

“This is where children should grow up.”

“What?”

Draco froze when he realized he had spoken out loud. He could feel her curious gaze on him but he kept his eyes forward, once again looking out over the backyard. The apple groves, the rolling hills, the garden he had once thought messy but now thought wonderfully wild… There was a swing set in the distance and the shed where Arthur Weasley worked on things that would likely make the Ministry frown. The smell of freshly baked pies wafted from the open window and he could hear Teddy giggling at something Mrs. Weasley was showing him.

Children shouldn’t be raised by former Death Eaters in dark, cool manors. Draco hadn’t minded his childhood, of course, but he hadn’t realized other children had this option. He had been given everything he wanted when he was younger but there had never been anyone else to play with; even if there had been, he likely wouldn’t have shared his toys.

Children deserved to be raised by people like Ginny, who laughed a lot and were honest and had morals. People like bloody Granger, whose only fault was that she wasn’t born to a magical family. People like Longbottom, who managed to somehow change the tide of the war despite never making a proper potion on the first go. 

“You were very lucky to grow up here,” he told her, clearing his throat.

He could still feel her eyes on him. She nodded slowly in response.

“Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

The sun was slowly dragging itself down. Soon, it would be hidden behind the hills. Seeing that also, Ginny straightened.

“Did you want to stay for dinner?” she asked cautiously. “Most of the family will be here and they’re a nightmare but they’re still fun. I mean, I think you’d have fun with everyone.”

Draco tried to hide the shock that nipped him but wasn’t sure he succeeded. Dinner with the Weasleys? At the Burrow? What was happening with his life? Draco laughed at his thoughts, shaking his head slightly. 

“No, I couldn’t possibly.”

A flash of something colored Ginny’s face and his laughter died. Had it been _hurt_? He hadn’t seen that expression on her face… possibly ever. His lungs constricted at the sight and he reached for her before abruptly stopping himself. What was going on with him recently?

Running a hand over his face, he tried to get his head straight.

“I’m not sure I’d be welcomed here,” Draco told her once the words came to him.

It was the truth. Even if he pretended the idea of doing dinner with the Weasley brood was something that interested him, it didn’t change the reality of the situation. There was simply no way her brothers would let him join. Even if Ginny somehow managed to convince the idiot, Ron, to let him sit at the table there were plenty more brothers he’d have to endure, a few of which had been at school with him. 

He didn’t like admitting that fact to Ginny. Opening himself up like that, especially after the incident at Diagon Alley, wasn’t fun. But the expression on Ginny’s face changed.

“Is it because your face is all bruised up and ugly?” she asked.

Her words were soft, kind, but there was a wicked glint in her eyes. 

“My face is _not_ ugly,” he scoffed, the tension easing in his chest.

“I’m serious. I won’t let them bully you, Draco. I’ll stand up for you.”

“Just what I need. The youngest sibling standing guard over me.”

Ginny bit her lip as she grinned. Then she let out a low breath, leaning towards him slightly.

“You have my mum on your side, Draco,” she whispered, the tone of the conversation rapidly changing. “That’s all you need, really.”

His eyebrows rose. Did he really now? Draco thought of Molly, of what she said after she fixed his nose. The older woman hadn’t cursed him, after all. And she _had_ asked him if he was hungry afterwards.

The weight of Ginny’s gaze on him as she waited to hear what he would say was heavy.

“And you?” The question was asked without his permission, which had been happening far too often recently.

She tilted her head in confusion.

“You’re on my side also?”

“And me,” Ginny agreed, her smile so bright it made that strange feeling wash over him again.

The urge to push her hair from her face overcame him but he ignored it. Seriously, what was going on with him? Too much time with Ginny and Teddy, that was it. But… it didn’t mean he was ready to leave her side. 

He owed her for helping him. So if she wanted him to have dinner with her… he would.

)*(*)*(

“Is this a joke?”

“Ron, don’t—”

“Stop, Hermione. No, seriously, this has to be a joke. George?”

“Not me, mate.”

“Percy?”

There was a scoffing noise.

“Bill? Is this you?”

“No. Now, shut up, Ron, we’re trying to eat dinner.”

“You shut up, Bill, you never had to deal with this git at school. You were spared. Harry would have a meltdown if he saw this.”

“Harry isn’t here, though, Ron,” Hermione hissed through her teeth. “So, please—”

“Ginny? Ginny, tell me you’re just pulling one on me?”

“Not yet,” she replied sweetly. 

Ron glared at her. 

“This _was_ you,” he accused.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Obviously it was me, you duffer. We’re on the same Quidditch team. Have been for years, if you remember. He got attacked at Diagon Alley—”

“Nasty bruise there, Malfoy,” George noted. “Think you’re better for it. You look less like your revolting father.”

“Thanks for that,” Draco drawled.

George beamed.

“Even if he got attacked,” Ron continued, speaking loudly over George and Draco. “Why come here? To the Burrow? Why? Why here?”

“Oh, _shut up_ , Ron, you’re driving me insane.”

Hermione looked ready to curse her husband. Perhaps he felt the danger in her gaze for he angrily clamped his lips shut. His glare, though, didn’t leave Draco. Ginny groaned internally. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to do dinner with Ron here. But, when Ginny snuck a peek at Draco, she saw he looked oddly amused by the whole situation.

Arthur cleared his throat at the head of the table. He looked tired, as he often did when returning home from the Ministry, but he had seemed less surprised to see Draco sitting at his kitchen table than she would’ve thought. Beside him, Molly was serving Teddy food, ignoring the squabbling around her. 

“Is Rosie with your parents, Hermione?” Arthur asked kindly.

Hermione nodded, her eyes still on Ron.

“They were out on vacation—”

“Oh, yes, Germany. Did they enjoy it?”

“Yes, very much. They hadn’t seen Rose in a while so they asked to keep her overnight. I’ll be getting her tomorrow before Teddy’s little league game.”

Teddy hummed happily at that as he ate.

Ginny turned her attention from their conversation to Draco, who was sitting sandwiched between her and Percy. She had purposely kept him away from George, just in case George decided adding something to Draco’s food would be funny. Angelina was on George’s other side and she wouldn’t have minded Draco sitting beside her but Angelina had wanted to sit close to Molly. And, honestly, Ginny had figured Percy would be least likely to start fighting with him. Bill would have been her preferred choice but he had Victoire and Louis on either side of him. Fleur hadn’t been feeling well and opted to stay home and miss the dinner. 

“So, Mr. Malfoy.” Percy’s face did something funny, twisting as though he had bitten into a lemon, and he shook his head. “Draco. Malfoy.”

“That’s my name.”

Percy frowned. His wife, Audrey, patted his hand sympathetically. 

“Malfoy. Your mother recently obtained several portkeys for travel around Europe,” he began conversationally before taking a bit of his meal. “I was informed when she first put her travel plans in a few weeks ago.”

Percy was the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation and was privy to the information of those traveling in or out of Britain.

Draco’s eyebrows rose.

“Monitoring my mother’s activities?” 

Percy dropped his fork in surprise.

“Oh, no, of course not. I simply had been asked to approve—”

Ginny barely contained her laughter at the sight of Draco’s smirk.

“He’s being an idiot, Percy. Don’t mind him.”

Percy stopped his stammering, smoothing down the front of his shirt self-consciously. 

“Oh, of course,” Percy said, picking up his fork again. “The Ministry doesn’t monitor the Malfoy family’s movements any longer.”

“Good to know,” Draco replied dryly.

“Well, they _should_ ,” Ron snapped from the other end of the table.

Hermione let out a loud sigh the same time as Ginny. 

“Really, Ron, you make it sound like he turned your teddy bear into a giant spider,” Bill interrupted, grinning. 

Louis giggled loudly at the sight of his dad smiling.

“No, he just tried to turn Harry over to the Death Eaters,” Ron growled at the same time George joyfully said, “No, that was me and Fred, actually.”

“I don’t understand how anyone is trying to pretend this is normal! Malfoy is sitting at our _dinner table_!”

“Do you think he’s here under false pretenses?” Audrey asked, glancing at Ron curiously. “Should we be very worried?”

Ron’s mouth moved wordlessly, clearly unable to decide if Audrey was joking or not.

“Well, that wouldn’t be too unlikely,” George mused. “He was an absolute wanker in school. Maybe you’re on to something, Ron.”

“Should we inform the Ministry? Hermione, you’re able to get ahold of the Minister personally, aren’t you?”

“Oh, stop it, Bill,” Hermione tried to say sternly, looking torn between amusement and irritation.

“I have a rather long list of how I’d describe Malfoy back at Hogwarts. They likely still pertain to him now. Wanker, git, tosser, bastard, _bloody_ bastard, spoiled, rotten, prat— anyway who wants to join in, please do—”

“Knock it off, George,” snapped Molly, reaching over to smack him with one of the wooden spoons she had been using to serve the potatoes.

Angelina burst out into laughter when George gave his mother a wounded expression.

“Mum, really, how old are we here?” 

“You tell me, George!” Molly growled.

“What’s a wanker?” Teddy questioned curiously, looking between Angelina and Molly for an answer.

Percy let out a strangled laugh as Arthur buried his head in his hands.

“Yeah, dad, what’s a wanker?” Victoire asked.

Bill grimaced.

“Your mother won’t like that,” he murmured, before shushing Victoire when she asked again.

Thankfully, Draco still looked extremely pleased by the whole situation. He was slowly eating his food, his eyes darting around the table as every occupant seated talked about him or tried to get the others to stop talking about him. She supposed he always did like attention, whether good or bad.

“I have to play Quidditch with him every season,” said Angelina, delight dancing across her face. “Really, you should all pity me. I don’t know how Ginny puts up with him like she does.”

“She must have some screws loose in her hea—”

The words died on Ron’s lips when Ginny abruptly went to stand. Bill moved fast, grabbing onto her wrist before she had the chance to launch across the table. She pointed a finger at Ron.

“Finish that sentence, Ron, and you’ll regret it.”

Ron sneered but it fell short at Hermione’s glare.

“Draco went to trial and was cleared of any wrongdoing by _Harry’s_ testimony. This is embarrassing, Ron, please stop,” Hermione whispered.

Her words carried over the table, her warning clear. Ron sagged in his seat, though his hand reached over to rub Hermione’s belly as though for comfort. She visibly relaxed at his touch. The conversation died briefly before picking up again, easily, as it often did whenever the Weasleys were together.

Ginny turned to find Draco smirking at her. She leaned towards him, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes?”

“Was that you defending me?” he questioned, so low that she barely heard him.

Ginny grinned sharply.

“That was me defending myself, actually.” 

“Very well. I wanted to make sure before I remarked on what a horrid job you did if you had been defending me,” Draco informed her. “Truly. If I had any feelings—”

“Which you don’t.”

“—I would’ve been very upset.”

They shared a smile, one that made her heart flutter. This was absolutely ridiculous. He was only here because she had asked him to be here. That was it. But, still, Draco was sitting at the dinner table with her family after coming to the Burrow on instinct. If that didn’t mean something… what did? 

The real question, of course, was _what_ did it mean? 

It wasn’t long before everyone was finished with their meals. Her mum brought out the pie she had baked earlier in the day and everyone took a slice, despite being overly stuffed. The clearing of a throat stopped all conversation.

Standing from his seat, Ron took a deep breath, waiting for everyone’s attention to fall on him. Ginny was ready to shut him up but, when she went to speak, George sent a subtle head shake her way. Odd. What was going on?

“There was something I wanted to share with everyone tonight. Despite present company.”

Ron glared at Draco, who looked positively delighted at his words. 

Her mum and dad stared up at Ron in confusion. Teddy and Victoire were unbothered by what Ron was saying; their eyes were heavy as they tried to eat the last of their pie. Louis was already sleeping, slumped over in his highchair. Audrey looked politely curious, Percy’s eyes were narrowed, Angelina’s lips were pursed, and Bill was waiting patiently.

George seemed to know what was going on, his barely contained excitement radiating off him, and Hermione also seemed in the know, rubbing her belly and smiling softly at her husband.

“Is Hermione pregnant?” Ginny asked dryly when the silence became too much.

She heard Draco choke back a laugh. 

“Shut up, Gin,” Ron mumbled. “No, I—uh, mum, dad, I’m going to, er, quit. Being an Auror.”

The table was quiet. It wasn’t that it was a bad thing, quitting his job. Ginny was pretty sure it was beginning to tire Ron in the same way Hermione said it was beginning to tire Harry. All they had been doing their young lives was fighting evil. It was a noble career choice but… Ron didn’t have to spend his whole life battling darkness.

“And he’s going to come work with me!” George shouted, standing up dramatically and throwing his arms in the air.

Without warning, George produced two wands that immediately began sparking. As each spark fell on the table, flames erupted from whatever it landed on. Hermione shouted angrily at George when her napkin set ablaze, Bill pushed Louis’s highchair away from the table and told Victoire to stay away, her mum gave out a cry of surprise, and—and Draco reached over, grabbing onto her hair.

“Ow, what are you doing, Malfoy?”

“Your hair was on fire. You’re welcome.”

“What? George, you absolute idiot! You’re setting everything on fire!” she yelled, but laughter colored her words.

Teddy was shrieking in delight, Audrey was helping put out some flames, Ron was pulling at his hair, and Arthur was watching tiredly from his seat. Angelina reached over and yanked the wands from George’s hands, tossing them in a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

“Oh, no, don’t do—”

The pitcher cracked then exploded, creating such large vibrations that the plates on the tables were thrown backwards. Molly had grabbed Teddy on instinct, covering him, and Ron had shielded Hermione as she grabbed Victoire. Draco and Ginny dove for cover, as she was sure everyone else did, but it hardly mattered. Everything on the table was thrown across the kitchen, knocking over dirty pots and pans, spilling the leftovers from dinner, and tossing the last few pieces of pie onto the ceiling. 

Teddy’s loud giggle was the first thing she heard.

Ginny looked over at Draco, who was crouched beside her, his body sheltering her own ever so slightly. Someone’s mashed potatoes were in his hair and juice drenched his shirt. With all that, and the large purple bruise staining the middle of his face, Ginny felt her eyes crinkling as she started laughing. She tried stopping it, biting on her fist to halt the sound from reaching the others.

But then Draco spoke.

“What the _fuck_.”

That did it. She dropped her hand, rolling onto her back and letting the laughter pour from her. Ginny had laid in something disgusting but she didn’t bother to check because Draco was grinning wildly beside her and Teddy was still laughing on the other side of the room. Her mum was screaming bloody murder and George was rushing to make up some excuse.

“You could’ve KILLED US!”

“Mum, that’s dramatic, isn’t it—”

“EVERYTHING! RUINED! WHY did you bring out those wands? WHY!”

“Come now, mum, wasn’t it a bit funny?”

“YOU’RE NOT AT HOGWARTS ANYMORE, GEORGE!”

Draco wiped some of the food off his forehead, speaking to Ginny when she finally caught her breath.

“I should’ve known this is what dinner would be like with you Weasleys.”

And, despite the slime in his hair and the bruise on his face and his juice stained shirt, Ginny couldn’t help but marvel at how horribly handsome he looked. She couldn’t help but think how lucky she was that he decided to stay for dinner and how happy she was that he shared this insane moment with her.

As those thoughts raced through her head, as Draco got to his feet and her eyes traced his lean body, as he helped her up, his touch sending sparks across her skin, she couldn’t help but realize…

Merlin, she was in trouble.

)*(*)*(

In the future, if someone asked him to explain the events of the day, Draco wasn’t sure he could. Because, honestly, how did one go from telling the tale of getting attacked at Diagon Alley in the morning to ending up on the kitchen floor of the Burrow, covered in someone’s old food, with it making sense? It didn’t matter, not really, because who would Draco tell anyway?

Pansy? Flint? His mother? 

No, that wouldn’t do him any good. They’d think he’d gone mad. And, perhaps, he had. Because there was something positively light and happy and fucking bubbly inside of him, that wouldn’t disappear even as he helped the Weasleys clean their kitchen. It didn’t leave when Ginny’s moron of a brother glared at him across the room as if the mess was all his fault, it didn’t leave when Granger said her goodbyes, a curious look in her eyes, it didn’t leave when Molly hesitantly grabbed his arm as she thanked him for helping or when Arthur apologized for what happened at Diagon Alley or when Bill said it was a pleasure meeting him or when George clapped him on the back, laughing, before leaving.

It did grow, however, when Ginny stepped up beside him, the sweet filling from the apple pie smeared across her left cheek. She was smiling at him, her hands clasped together in front of her, and Draco couldn’t help but wonder if she’d taste as satisfying as the sugary glaze on her face. The thought startled him, not because it was a horrible, disgusting thought, but because it filled his body with tingles and those tingles were certainly not something he had ever associated with Ginny before.

Tingles were fine and dandy when meeting a stranger, promising him a possibly wonderful shag if he managed it just right. But tingles arriving unexpectedly, making his body go warm and his skin suddenly extremely sensitive, only warned of danger—especially when they arrived because Ginny Weasley looked so completely fuckable standing the hallway of her childhood home, grinning at him wickedly. And while Draco had always known that Ginny was considered very, very fuckable by anyone with two eyes he had always kept that part of his mind firmly locked away when in her presence.

He had earned her friendship. They worked together. And she came to his aid, without much hesitation, when he asked her to.

Draco couldn’t risk that because he suddenly had the brilliant idea of shagging her.

It could ruin everything between them. _Everything_. She’d likely be disgusted if he mentioned it, would never speak to him again, the bond that they had worked so hard to build dissolving right before his very eyes. He had to, just, somehow, completely banish that thought. Never think on it again. Erase the memory of Ginny and apples and her smile as she looked up at him, sugary and sweet and—

Fuck.

Of course, it didn’t help that when Draco had gone to leave with Teddy, rather quickly once the surprising thoughts began entering his mind, she had asked if his offer still stood to spend time with him and Teddy. That night. And, Merlin help him, he couldn’t say no. Because he liked spending time with Ginny. He had enjoyed the day thus far because of _her_ and no one else. And while he continually reminded himself that he had a good week with Teddy despite her absence he knew the week would’ve been much more fun if she had been there. 

He was screwed. 

So he agreed she could come back with him but took care to inform her it wasn’t to his flat. Draco had been staying at Malfoy Manor, as his mother had initially suggested. Something had flashed across her face (Hesitancy? Worry? Doubt?) before she grinned and agreed.

And now, after showering while Ginny made sure Teddy properly bathed himself, he laid on his bed and listened to her shower in the bathroom connected to his room. Malfoy Manor was his home and he treasured it, yes, but only two bedrooms and two bathrooms had been cleaned and prepared for his visit with Teddy. Draco wasn’t willing to let Ginny venture into any other rooms, for he could only imagine what things his mother had left out for any curious intruders. When he had offered to sleep in the drawing room, Ginny had stared at him blankly before telling him not to be stupid.

It was stupid, he supposed, since they had spent almost a week sharing the same bed. But he hadn’t had the thoughts before that he did at the Burrow. Those thoughts were now firmly locked away, never to be thought on again. Unless he was alone. And she was far, far away. And he could keep their friendship firmly separated while he—

The shower turned off and, a moment later, Ginny exited the bathroom. Her hair was wet and her skin flushed from the heat of the water. Her eyebrows rose when she spotted him.

“So this was your bedroom when you were a kid?”

Draco looked away from her and up at the ceiling. He swallowed thickly.

“Indeed.”

When she was quiet for too long, he looked over to find her walking around his room, studying everything. Her fingers traced the wood of his desk before flipping through a potions book from his fourth or fifth year that had been left on the desktop. She then opened one of his cabinets, peering in at the old school uniforms that still hung clean and pressed.

“May I?” 

Draco inclined his head and she pulled out a uniform. Ginny stared at it curiously, running her hands along the fabric. She lifted the tie, silver and green and black, and held it between her hands.

“You would’ve looked good in green.”

Ginny glanced at him in surprise, her lips parting. He didn’t know why he said that but it was true. She would’ve looked… He cleared his throat, shaking his head. What the hell was wrong with him?

“The Sorting Hat considered it,” she admitted.

His eyebrows rose.

“For a second, anyway.” Ginny shrugged, putting the uniform away.

Then she yawned, covering her mouth with her hand and walking over to his bed with no hesitation. How very different from the first night she had stayed over. Draco moved to make room, his eyes looking her over without his permission.

“Is that a Chudley Cannons shirt?” he asked, disgusted.

Ginny laughed, nodding.

“It was one of Ron’s old ones. That’s all I had left at the Burrow, I had to get something,” she said in defense, laughing harder as his scowl deepened.

She jumped on the bed beside him, bouncing slightly before crawling under the covers. He followed suit, careful to keep himself from brushing up against her. The lights around them dimmed automatically but he could feel her eyes on him. Draco couldn’t help but wonder what expression she was wearing as she gazed at him.

“Tomorrow Teddy has a game?” 

“Yes,” he responded, his voice soft, as though now that it was dark in his room he couldn’t speak loudly.

“I can’t wait to see him play.”

“You do realize he goes with Potter tomorrow for the night?”

Draco half wanted to point out how purposeless it was for her to sleep over but the words caught in his throat. He wondered if she knew what he was going to say, for her next words were oddly hesitant.

“It was… tonight… today was fun. Right?”

He stared at her silhouette.

“Yes,” Draco whispered. “It was.”

It was an odd admission, one that made goosebumps rise on his skin for reasons unknown. He could almost see Ginny smiling into her pillow. Draco took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

“Goodnight, Ginny.”

“Goodnight, Draco.”

)*(*)*(

“This is a different team than we played last time, Ginny, I wish you could’ve been there but it’s okay. Anyway, I hope they’re just as fun. We didn’t win but Draco said there wasn’t really any winning since no one seemed to really be playing, didn’t you say that, Draco? So we sort of won anyway, right? Yeah?”

Draco nodded in order to keep Teddy talking but his mind was not on the boy’s conversation at all. Thankfully, Ginny was dutifully listening, speaking when necessary and laughing when needed. In all honesty, Draco’s attention was not at all on the world around him, though his thoughts were very much focused on the woman beside him.

After waking up in his childhood bed, greeted by the sight of Ginny with her ginger locks splayed over his pillow, her face soft in sleep, Draco found himself rather lost. The realization came to him abruptly, at that moment as he studied her in her sleep, that she was the first person to share his bed with him at Malfoy Manor. Between his final dark years at Hogwarts and his hasty escape after being cleared of wrongdoing by the Ministry, Draco hadn’t had the chance to bring someone home with him, to snog or shag or simply sleep with. 

And he had never really thought on it, to be honest. There had been no sense of loss. No regret. No curiosity over the idea of experiencing such an intimate and normal thing with someone in his former house.  
But when he awoke to Ginny, her hands curled in the covers that had sheltered him from the darkness of the manor during the war, when he had heard daily the harsh whispers about the _Dark Lord_ and _murder_ and _purging the world of mudbloods_ , he couldn’t catch his breath. Draco hadn’t ever wanted someone to sleep beside him in this room. It was startling to realize he was happy that it was Ginny who changed that.

Yet another thing about Ginny, another moment shared between them, that complicated Draco’s already tangled feelings for her.

“Oh, look! Look! It’s Harry! Harry! _Harry_!”

Great. One more unwelcome thing he had to deal with.

Teddy ran away from Ginny and Draco with no regard, racing toward Potter and his sidekicks who were standing on the edge of the field. As if last night hadn’t been enough time with Weasley and Granger, they had decided to come to Teddy’s game today also. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Draco contemplated turning around and leaving. It wasn’t like Teddy wanted him anyway—

“Draco! Ginny! Look! It’s Harry! Come here!”

Teddy was clinging to Potter’s hand excitedly. Draco’s eyes skimmed the group as they approached. Granger’s eyebrows were almost hidden in her wild locks as she watched Draco and Ginny walk up. Honestly, did the woman even try to contain her hair? It was like it had a life of its own. If Draco got close enough, strands of it would probably reach out and try to strangle him. And then there was the bloody idiot he had to deal with last night. Weasley was scowling at the sight of him, his grip on his offspring’s hand tightening protectively as though Draco was going to try to steal her.

As if Draco wanted anything to do with the little pest. He had enough of that Rose the other day.

And, of course, fucking Potter. He blinked owlishly at the arrival of Draco and Ginny, his eyes darting between the pair in slight confusion. A trill of satisfaction raced through Draco at the sight and he fought the urge to wrap his arm around Ginny’s shoulder and tug her close—that impulse certainly came from wanting to make Potter jealous and not wanting to touch Ginny for the hell of it.

Yes. Right. Anyway.

“Ginny. Draco,” Granger greeted, pursing her lips together. “What a pleasant surprise. I hadn’t thought you’d arrive together.”

Was she pursing her lips like that for a reason? To hide amusement? One of his eyebrows rose as he looked her over before turning to glance at Ginny. She was glaring at the other witch. 

Interesting.

“You know I’ve been helping him with Teddy,” Ginny said shortly.

“Probably needs all the help he can get,” the moron grumbled.

“Thanks for, you know, bringing Teddy and watching him,” Potter said to Draco, like he had every time they’d seen each other while exchanging Teddy.

“He’s not your child, Potter,” Draco drawled. “No need to thank me.”

Potter frowned but before he could respond, or the moron could finish turning properly red in anger, a tiny voice rang out.

“Uncle Dra-co!” 

Draco froze at the dreaded name. He almost groaned out loud when Rose shook off her father’s hand and set off at a run towards him. She was reaching for him as she ran and, with an exasperated sigh, he bent down to pick her up. 

Merlin, if only his mother could see him now, associating with the next generation of Weasleys in public. She’d certainly regret her decision to have him watch Teddy then.

Rose grabbed Draco’s face, turning his gaze onto her, and her lips broke into a smile. This close, he could see that freckles dotted the young girl’s bronzed face. He scowled when she started giggling.

“Hello, Weasley,” he muttered, using his free hand to pull her grubby hands off his face.

He probably had dirt on his cheeks now. Great.

Looking away from the toddler in his arms, Draco jolted when he realized that everyone around him was staring at him. Potter, Weasley, and Granger each wore different expressions of surprise. Of course, Rose’s idiot father looked on the verge of puking at the sight before him. Ginny, he noticed, had a hand covering her mouth, hiding a smile. Her eyes were twinkling.

His scowl deepened.

“ _Don’t_ call him uncle, Rose,” Weasley croaked. “ _Please_.”

Granger broke out of her trance, patting her husband’s back in comfort. A flash of amusement went through Draco.

“She calls everyone uncle, Ron,” Granger said, after another long silence.

“When has she even seen him?” Weasley groaned.

“They came over the other day so Teddy could call Andromeda.”

“Have you _scourgified_ the house yet?”

Granger rolled her eyes.

“She’d be lucky to have me as an uncle,” Draco said, interrupting their conversation.

Once again, the imbecile’s face turned maroon. 

“It’s Granger-Weasley, by the way,” Potter suddenly said.

Draco turned cool eyes to him and saw that Potter, too, had begun to seem entertained by the situation.

“What?” Draco asked shortly.

“Rose’s last name is Granger-Weasley,” Potter informed him. 

“As if Weasley didn’t sound bad enough.”

“Hey!” Ginny laughed, knocking her elbow against his.

Draco looked down at her, his lips twitching as he tried to hide his smirk. She caught it, though, shaking her head in amusement. He hoped the look they exchanged wasn’t noticed by the Golden Trio but when he turned his attention from Ginny he saw that Granger’s expression was knowing and Potter’s head was tilted in confusion.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to put Rose down but she kept her arms locked firmly around his neck. Bending awkwardly, Draco released his hold on her but she hung from him like a bloody monkey. Her arms were surprisingly strong for being so young.

“Looks like you’re stuck with her, Malfoy,” Granger told him, grinning. 

Draco blinked in surprise as Ginny’s eyes and nose crinkled from smiling.

“Rosie, don’t you want to come with daddy?” 

“No,” the girl said shortly, her arms tightening around Draco’s neck again.

“This is _not_ how I planned on spending my Saturday,” the moron groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“Me neither.”

Weasley gave a start as he stared at Draco. Was that the first time they had ever agreed on anything? Neck aching, Draco lifted the girl back into his arms and straightened. His bones cracked and he winced as he attempted to stretch.

“Come on, Teddy. Let’s get you over to the coach,” Potter said.

“I want to go with Teddy!” Rose cried out suddenly, wiggling hard until Draco put her down.

She darted after Potter and Teddy, her chubby legs pumping hard to catch up with them. When she got close, Potter reached for her hand and she gave it to him automatically.

“Well, that was short lived,” Draco muttered.

Though the lack of the weight in his arms was welcome, it forced him to realize his situation. Granger, Weasley, and Ginny were his only company now as they stood in a somewhat broken circle; Ginny and Draco stood to one side, Weasley and Granger on the other. 

This would be the second day in a row that Draco spent time with his former classmates. And, perhaps even worse, Weasley wasn’t even glaring at him anymore. His attention was on his wife, pushing some of her bushy hair from her face affectionately. Draco looked to Ginny, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched the children with their tiny brooms.

Seeing this game would likely be the highlight of her week.

“We’ve set up chairs over here, if you want to join us,” Granger called, breaking Draco from his thoughts. “Ginny? Draco?”

The idiot narrowed his eyes at Draco but, other than that, didn’t comment. The Granger-Weasleys walked towards wherever they had set up camp, leaving him alone with Ginny. She followed her brother. Draco went to trail her but felt as though his feet had suddenly been cursed, freezing him in place. He tapped his fingers against his leg as he tried to think of what to say, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

Ginny stopped and turned when she realized he wasn’t beside her.

“Hey? You okay?” 

She was so bloody tiny compared to him yet, in that moment as he contemplated what the _fuck_ was happening to his life, he was completely aware of her. When Ginny took a step back towards him, concern coloring her face, he took a step backwards.

“Draco?”

“I’m going to leave.”

The four words made her freeze.

“What? Why?” It was clear she was thinking, and fast, before she let out a strangled laugh. “Oh, Draco, we don’t have to sit with them. It’s not a big deal—”

“That’s not it,” he interrupted.

Yes, it was. But he couldn’t let her know that. The last thing he wanted was for Potter and Weasley to realize they still made him nervous. Dinner at the Burrow was one thing; though the conversation was about him, the attention of the group was hardly on him. They bickered amongst themselves, entertained themselves, and left him off to the side. And he had been okay with that, as long as Ginny was there, watchful of her family’s banter. But this… this was different.

It was unacceptable, in a way.

Draco could be friends with Ginny, yes, they were coworkers and had to get along. And this? Her helping him? It certainly showed she was a better person than almost everyone else he associated with. But the Golden Trio was _different_. Spending time with them for the sake of Ginny, and Teddy, seemed ridiculous. What had happened to his morals and grudge holding? What would they think of him afterwards? Would they go back to the Ministry and tell everyone how Draco Malfoy now spent his days at little league games, seated in between them as though they had absolutely no past together?

Would everyone laugh over it?

Would someone mention it to Lucius, hoping to get a reaction from the once great man?

No, that was insane, that would never happen.

It didn’t stop the dread from weighing down Draco’s stomach as he thought on spending another minute in their presence. Even now, the idea of spending time with Ginny was tainted by the presence of the others. Draco shook his head.

“What is it?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m to meet up for a late lunch,” Draco lied, looking away from her. “With Astoria.”

The name of Draco’s ex came to him easily, despite the fact that they hadn’t spent much time together over the last few months. Their relationship had always been very on again/off again, though it was certainly more off than on recently. He wasn’t even surprised that he had said her name; if it had been his mother he was lying to, she would’ve been pleased over the thought that he was spending time with a woman she found acceptable.

Draco wasn’t lying to his mother, however.

If he would’ve been looking at Ginny, he would’ve seen the alarm that flashed across her face. He likely would’ve hesitated at the sight of it, confused and a bit concerned. He likely would’ve asked about it.

But Draco kept his gaze on the random people around them; the parents, the children, the coaches.

“A date?” her words were choked.

The strain in her voice made Draco’s eyes dart to her but she was looking at the ground, her hair shielding her face from him. After a second, Ginny looked up. She was smiling slightly but there was something… off about her expression. Draco couldn’t pinpoint it. Ginny began walking backwards from him.

“Have fun, then. I’ll tell Teddy you’re sorry for missing his game.”

Something was definitely wrong.

“Gin—”

She had already turned away from him, walking quickly to Granger and Weasley. Draco couldn’t make himself go after her so, instead, he looked to the field to try to spot Teddy. The little boy was talking rapidly to Potter and the coach, his hair matching his godfather’s in color and messiness. Frowning, Draco continued on his way. Teddy wouldn’t notice his absence, there were plenty other people here for him.

Yes. This was fine.

No need to feel as though he was choosing the coward’s way out by leaving.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~


	5. Chapter Five

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

“I had a sex dream about Weasley last night.”

It had been something Draco swore he would never admit out loud to anyone. Ever. Alone in his flat, with no house-elves wandering the corridors or children sleeping in the other room or a delightful little vixen curled up beside him, the dream had been Draco’s secret; and he had initially felt strangely at peace with it. After all, it had been absolutely wonderful.

That is, until he sat down for breakfast with Zabini, Flint, and Pansy. The confession spilled from his mouth after feeling like it was going to choke him.

The idle movement at the table stopped abruptly. Draco forced himself to look at his companions and fought back a ridiculous burst of laughter. Zabini was in the middle of bringing a forkful of eggs to his mouth. He looked frozen in time. Flint’s face was twisting between curiosity and amusement. Pansy had yet to take a sip of tea from the cup she had brought to her lips. 

They were all staring at Draco. Self-consciously, he touched his nose, though he knew that the bruising had gone down significantly after Ladbey, his house-elf, had given him a cream to rub on it. 

“Well, which one?” Zabini finally asked.

Pansy put down her teacup, the clatter of china hitting china shockingly loud at the now quiet table. 

“Did I hear you correctly?” Pansy questioned, glaring at Draco.

“Yes, I asked which Weasley Draco had a sex dream about,” Zabini told her.

“Shut up, Blaise,” she snapped.

“I’m serious. I’ve never been sure about Draco—”

Zabini was cut off by Flint’s chortling. Unsurprisingly, Blaise looked overly amused with himself. He loved poking fun at everyone in the group; Draco particularly. 

Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“Welcome back from your vacation, Zabini,” he muttered.

“Now, Malfoy, don’t worry too much. Ginny Weasley is a lovely thing,” Flint informed him. “I saw her just the other week with Granger. I can’t deny that I enjoyed looking at her.”

“How very creepy,” Pansy sneered. 

Flint shrugged.

“Are you jealous, Pansy?” Zabini inquired. “Want Malfoy here to have a wank over you instead?”

“Of course not.”

“You never did like Ginny Weasley, did you? Hasn’t she interrogated you before about the girl, Malfoy?”

“Yes. Sixth year, wasn’t it, Pans?” Draco asked.

“Because she was a harpy that all the boys were drooling over,” Pansy hissed.

“Still is, it seems,” said Flint, pointing his fork at Draco. “If Malfoy is any indication.”

Relieved that they hadn’t all begun screaming at him immediately, Draco relaxed in his seat. Despite the fact that the group tended to annoy each other more often than not, the three people before him were still his friends. They were still the ones he went to when something was particularly bothering him. They were the ones who agreed with him when he needed it or disagreed with him, depending on the circumstances.

The fact that their reaction to what happened wasn’t horrible was something he didn’t realize he needed.

“Are you trying to fuck her now?” Pansy questioned lightly, though her gaze was harsh. 

“Of course not.”

Flint’s eyebrows rose.

“Well, why not?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you trying to shag her?” Flint asked.

Draco frowned but no one seemed to be having a laugh at him so he tried to find the right answer.

“She’s—well, I can’t. We work together.”

“I’m sure that’s not stopped you before,” Blaise jested.

Pansy made a sound of agreement.

“We’re friends,” Draco informed them. 

The argument was weak and Draco knew it. He could particularly tell it wasn’t his best defense from the way Pansy stared at him in surprise. Pushing back in her seat, Pansy turned her body completely towards him in order to face him properly. 

“The fact that you’re coworkers and friends is the only thing stopping you from _fucking a Weasley_?”

He stiffened, realizing his mistake. Flint and Zabini were looking between Pansy and Draco curiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then, suddenly, Pansy leaned towards Draco. Through her teeth, she hissed at him.

“The fact that she’s a Weasley isn’t enough? Have you gone mad?”

Draco opened his mouth to respond but wasn’t sure what to say. It didn’t matter, for Pansy continued speaking.

“I know your… relationship with her has steadily grown into something more than we would’ve thought over the past few years and I know that, because of your new _friendship_ with her, you’re likely not realizing the consequences of having such dreams and actually telling us about them but, Draco, you sound oddly as though you _like_ Weasley. Is that at all possible?”

“Of course I like her. I just told you—”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Pansy snapped. “I don’t mean like her as a friend. I mean like her as in you might not want to shag her because you’re afraid it could develop into something more.”

He blinked. What? Where did that come from? There was—that was absolutely—he did not like Ginny. Pansy was losing it.

Flint didn’t seem too bothered. 

“What does it matter, anyway, Pans? He’d be lucky to snag someone like Weasley.”

“Imagine Potter’s reaction,” Blaise mused.

“Zabini just returned the other day from his trip with a Gryffindor,” Flint pointed out. “Gone are the boundaries of Slytherin and Gryffindor.”

“Crazy thing, that Romilda.”

“She was a Gryffindor?” Draco asked, surprised.

“Romilda Vane? Yes. Younger than us. Absolutely nuts. Hopefully Weasley isn’t quite on her level.”

Flint continued chuckling loudly as Pansy let out a loud groan.

“You’re in love with a Weasley.” Pansy sounded like she was whining, something he rarely heard from her anymore.

Draco ran his hands through his hair, fighting the urge to grab the strands and tug. 

“How did we get on this conversation? I am not in love with Ginny.”

“Because,” Zabini explained patiently. “You told us you had a sex dream about a friend of yours whom Pansy doesn’t approve of.”

“I never said I didn’t approve of her.”

“So you’d be alright with Draco dating the Weasley girl?”

“I thought Draco didn’t like her like that?” Pansy retorted, leaning back casually in her seat. 

Her gaze went from Zabini, whose lips were pressed together in amusement, back to Draco. Actually, all three of them were staring at him. Flint spoke, breaking the silence.

“Hypothetically.”

Pansy’s gaze was severe, slicing Draco to his bone as she looked him over. Then, with a soft sigh, she shrugged. The tension left her and she drummed her fingers against her glass of water.

“Hypothetically, if Draco did decide to date Ginevra Weasley I would… begrudgingly approve. As long as he understood that by doing so, he’d be placing his family back into the spotlight. And I have a feeling Lucius wouldn’t like that very much, especially from his jailcell. Also, it puts you right back in the attention of Potter and the Ministry. Doesn’t half her family work for the bloody government?”

His throat was dry. Pansy… wouldn’t care? How was this possible? When he had decided to tell them about his dream the night before, Draco never would’ve thought the conversation unfolding around him would have occurred. If he did think about the conversation ever happening, it wouldn’t be going like this. Draco had always assumed that his friends’ grudges with their former classmates were far deeper, especially Pansy, who still had an intense fear of persecution from the Ministry.

Draco took a long sip of water, hoping it would ease the itchiness of his throat. Then he lowered his eyes briefly, hardly able to keep eye contact with the people around him.

“Well, to be honest, I have a feeling their attention may be on me already.”

“And why is that?” Zabini inquired curiously.

“I… had dinner with the Weasley family Friday night. Oh, and I arrived at Teddy’s game yesterday with her. Potter, Granger, and Weasley were there already and I was forced to endure… small talk with them.”

“Teddy? The boy?” Flint hummed deep in his chest. “You like him more than you did before.”

The idea that his new-found affection for Teddy was that clear simply from how Draco spoke about him would normally cause him stress but he pushed it aside. There were more important things to concern himself with. 

“He’s annoying but, yes, I get along with him well enough,” he agreed, waving his hand.

“I’d like to get along with children,” Flint admitted. “Perhaps I’ll take him from you for a day.”

Draco frowned. That wasn’t going to happen.

“She’s still staying with you then?” Pansy asked suspiciously. “I thought you were back at the manor. You didn’t… Draco, did you bring a Weasley to Malfoy Manor?”

If he hadn’t perfected wiping emotions clean off his face years ago, Draco knew for certain he would’ve flushed uncharacteristically at her question. 

“He did!” Zabini cried out, laughing.

“Merlin, Malfoy, you’ve become rather brave, haven’t you? Hanging out with that Gryffindor is really changing you, isn’t it?” Flint added.

“Rather brave and rather careless,” Blaise hooted.

Pansy stared at him, as frozen as a statue. 

“Why aren’t you dating Weasley?” 

Her question was quiet, curious, so unlike the harsh glare in her eyes. Draco shook his head once, unsure why this question kept coming up.

“Because I don’t like her like that.”

Flint scoffed.

“Yeah, but the only reason you gave us for not shagging her is because you’re friends; not because of her family, not because of the public outcry that would surely occur, not because she isn’t your type. What if she liked you back?”

“She doesn’t like me back.”

“How do you know? You’re absolutely horrible at reading women,” Pansy interjected.

“I am not,” Draco muttered. “I remember her with Potter. She’s not like that with me.”

“Weasley was obsessed with Potter when she was a scrawny little first year. How are you comparing her to that?”

Why was he even thinking about this? What did it matter? Draco _did not_ like Ginny. He had a dream about shagging her that had been… very nice… but he did not have romantic feelings for the girl. Merlin, he had only begun to view her as a friend a few years ago! Romantic feelings took time to build. It took trust and good communication and—and humor and, who knows really, because his parents’ relationship had always been a mystery to him, though he knew they cared for each other, and their relationship was the only one he ever observed growing up.

Even if he did like Ginny—which he didn’t—she would never return his feelings. This was stupid. Why had he brought this up? There was far too much history for them to ever get into a relationship like that. Not that he wanted to. But now, at Pansy’s gentle question, the thought wasn’t going to leave his head easily. 

Fuck, of course Pansy would plant this idea in his mind.

But it didn’t matter. Because Ginny did not like him. And he… he wasn’t going to invite her over unless he absolutely needed help with Teddy. They’d have to burn down the manor and injure Aries, the family peacock, in order for Draco to owl Ginny again. He needed a break.

He needed to clear his head.

)*(*)*(

An owl had arrived for her on Monday from Draco, asking her if she’d like to spend the day with him at the manor. His writing had been jerky and uneven, which was strange for him, and when she arrived she noticed that he seemed anxious.

“Everything okay? Is Teddy okay?”

Draco ran a hand through his hair joltingly and glanced at her in confusion.

“What? Teddy? Yeah, he’s fine. Outside on the broom.”

Ginny grinned.

“He really loves that thing since you’ve taken him out,” she noted.

Glancing down at her, Draco’s lips lifted slightly. A rush of warmth hit her at the sight. After Draco’s abrupt departure from Teddy’s little league game Saturday, Ginny had been feeling at odds with herself. He had told her he was going to eat with Astoria—Astoria Greengrass, who Ginny knew was Draco’s most regular on and off girlfriend. She had thought they had broken up but, clearly, they hadn’t.

It annoyed Ginny, how much the idea of Draco going on a date with Greengrass had upset her. Her stomach had felt like it was filled with butterflies and her emotions had spiked randomly all weekend. Ron had called her moody and annoying the majority of Teddy’s match. Hermione had clearly wanted to ask Ginny about where Draco had gone but Harry and Ron both shrugged off his disappearance with little worry.

She had thought… it had just seemed… things had been different between her and Draco. Ginny had been so sure something was different. But if he was still taking Greengrass on dates then she was clearly wrong. Maybe it was only Ginny who was different; maybe her plan had backfired so spectacularly that she was beginning to lose grip of herself and project her fantasies onto Draco.

Sure, he had come to the Burrow when he got attacked but he _knew_ Ginny was there and probably panicked and realized he needed someone to watch over Teddy while he fixed himself up. And staying for dinner was probably guilt. Her mum had helped heal him, after all, and he probably viewed it as disrespectful to leave. Yeah, the look on his face when they had been standing in the hall together, food hanging from his hair and his nose bruised and horrible, had seemed… different—Ginny had never seen Draco look at her like that and her insides had warmed considerably as she wondered what was going through his mind—but it could’ve been for any reason.

After all, he had done dinner with her family and it had ended with an explosion. It wasn’t exactly normal.

But then he had written her and she found herself more than a little excited to see him again. If he had written her, it meant he was thinking of her. And, okay, maybe it had something to do with Teddy but Ginny could hope that _maybe_ it had nothing to do with the little boy and more to do with Draco wanting to spend time with her.

Ugh, she was pathetic.

Ginny also wasn’t used to hiding her feelings for someone, so the whole situation was rather twisted and continued to put her in uncomfortable positions that she hadn’t dealt with since, well, Harry.

“Draco? Are we going to, er, go inside?”

They had been standing on his doorstep for a long moment in silence. He blinked at her before giving her a quick nod. Then he stepped aside and allowed her entry.

It was still strange, walking into Malfoy Manor as though it was no big deal. So many horrible, dark things had happened here. Luna had been held prisoner in the dungeons below the marble floor she walked across, people had died in various rooms (though she’d never know which), Dobby had been stabbed as he rescued her brother, Harry, and Hermione. But it didn’t seem to hold the gloom she’d imagine. Especially not when she could hear Teddy’s laughter from outside.

Ginny cast a quick eye to Draco. His gaze met hers for a minute then he looked away. Something was up. Worry filled her stomach at the realization. 

“Draco? What’s going on?” she asked, reaching out to grab his wrist.

He jolted at her touch, his eyes wide. The bruising on his face had surprisingly faded quickly, allowing him his handsome features once again. It also made it easier for her to not laugh at the odd expression on his face.

“Seriously, are you okay?”

Draco let out a low sigh before shaking his head. He was staring at her grip on his wrist, mouth twisting, before he looked up at her. The heavy pit in her stomach was transforming into something light and bubbly. That same strange look was on his face again. The one she couldn’t read.

“I’m fine,” he finally said.

Though his voice was soft, his words were loud in the entry hall. Ginny let go of his wrist abruptly, cradling her hand against her chest as though burned.

“It’s been a weird weekend,” Draco confessed.

She let out a light laugh.

“Yeah, I agree,” she muttered, thinking of her own mixed emotions since Saturday.

Her laughter seemed to relax him and he shoved his hands in his pockets. Together, they walked towards the French doors that led to the yard out back.

“I apologize for leaving so abruptly on Saturday.”

Amazed, she looked up at him.

“I didn’t realize Malfoys could apologize.”

“It’s rather frowned upon,” he admitted, smirking.

“I’m happy you risked your pride for me then.”

The curl of his lips grew. It still pleased Ginny to no end, the sight of him enjoying something she said. 

“How was… how was lunch with, uh, Greengrass?”

The question felt like blades in her throat but it didn’t matter. She _needed_ to know. Were they back together? 

“Hmm?”

“Astoria? Your lunch with her,” she reminded him, frowning.

Draco’s eyebrows drew together before comprehension came to him.

“Ah, yes, it was fine.”

Fine? What did fine mean? 

They had almost reached the doors when the familiar _whoosh_ of Floo sounded. They both paused, glancing at each other in confusion. Draco held out a hand, stopping Ginny from moving towards the drawing room. Was he expecting someone? It looked like he was ready to go for his wand when the sound of someone walking grew loud. 

_Click, click, click._

Ginny opened her mouth to speak as the person turned the corner, entering the corridor. Draco tensed beside her but she hardly noticed. 

“Astoria?”

Astoria Greengrass was here. Greengrass. The woman Ginny had just asked Draco about. Was here. At his manor. Draco had written for Ginny to come through but had invited Astoria also. Is that—is that what was happening? Her body flushed as she looked away from Greengrass to Draco. Though he seemed strangely still, there was nothing on his face that gave away what was going on.

“Draco, dear,” Greengrass greeted, approaching the pair.

Her blue eyes appraised Ginny briefly before returning to Draco. 

“It’s time for dinner.”

“It’s not yet three,” Draco replied. “Astoria—”

“A late lunch, then.”

It was extremely awkward, standing beside Draco during this conversation. Though Greengrass’ eyes never left him, Ginny knew the other woman was judging her. This wasn’t the first time Ginny had been judged and she doubted it would be the last but she had been feeling so insecure the past forty-eight hours that it felt like adding salt to a wound, sitting there to be scrutinized. 

Why was this happening? While Draco didn’t seem too surprised by Astoria’s arrival, he did seem thrown off. But why?

“You have someone here to watch the child,” Greengrass continued, waving her hand distractedly in Ginny’s direction. 

Draco took a small step forward, blocking Ginny partially from view. His hand flexed beside him. His contained emotion, though, did nothing for the sudden fire that burned within Ginny. Was that true? Was that why Ginny was here? To babysit Teddy? 

Astoria turned but glanced over her shoulder lazily as she headed back down the corridor.

“We’re going to eat, Draco. Do not cancel on me.”

The threat was clear.

When the _click, click_ of her heels disappeared, there was only silence left. Ginny took a deep breath and felt it rattle in her chest. Back still turned to her, she couldn’t help but wonder what Draco was thinking.

Then he turned on his heel to face her. She could read nothing on his face and a shiver raced up her back at the thought. There were times, when he first joined the Tornados, that he had seemed so icy and emotionless that it had frightened Ginny. The fear had turned to curiosity, of course, to the point where she did anything she could to get a reaction from him.

From then on, Draco had never cleared his expression of emotions around her again.

But this—this was different.

“What am I doing here?”

She thought her voice would be low, hesitant, worried, as she felt on the inside. But it wasn’t. Her words came out sharp, angry. Ginny felt suddenly like a wounded animal cornered by predators. When Draco had invited her here—when she had received his owl—she had assumed it was because he had wanted to see her. That wasn’t it though.

“Did you invite me over to _babysit_ for you?”

Her hands were in fists at her side and her neck was flushing in anger. The rage that filled her didn’t stop her bottom lip from trembling however. Ginny had to look down, letting her hair shield her from his gaze so she could quickly collect herself. When she looked back up, Draco was shaking his head.

“No, no, of course not—”

“Then why am I here?” 

Draco opened his mouth to respond but he looked uncharacteristically hesitant. If it were any other situation, if Ginny herself didn’t feel insecure and anxious, the sight of Draco so vulnerable would’ve forced the anger from her. But it was her only defense against her confusion. 

“Answer me, Draco,” Ginny half pleaded, her words a whisper.

If Greengrass was hearing this, if the woman Ginny was beginning to realize Draco was once again dating heard her plead with him, she would never be able to properly face her again. She couldn’t help it, though.

Draco focused on Ginny and she could almost see herself reflected in the gray of his eyes; small, out of place, alone.

“I need to go with her,” was all he said. “Can you stay here with Teddy?”

The air left Ginny’s lungs in a rush. She found herself nodding without knowing _why_ she would agree to stay and watch Teddy. Why was she doing this? Maybe it was because after all the excitement and happiness of seeing Draco was so quickly replaced with worry and anger and fear she was left exhausted. 

Ginny felt rather empty as Draco bent his head close to her, catching her eyes and holding her gaze.

“I’ll be back soon.”

She had been so stupid.

“Ginny, I’ll be back soon. Ginny?”

She had been so very, very wrong about this whole situation.

“Draco? Darling? You look fine. Let’s head out, shall we?”

Ginny glanced at Astoria, who had entered the corridor again. The other witch barely looked at them, instead fixing her dress so that it fell over her perfectly. Draco nodded beside Ginny and she saw from the corner of her eye his hand twitch. But then he strode forward without another look at Ginny, leaving her to drop everything and take care of his responsibility while he went off to do what he pleased.

)*(*)*(

Draco shouldn’t have left her.

The realization cloaked him, almost suffocating him, when he allowed Astoria to use side-along apparition to get them to wherever she wished. Ginny had—holy fuck, why did he leave her? She had looked absolutely lost by the whole situation. But he had needed to. That much Draco knew was true.

Astoria Greengrass’ sudden arrival back into his life could only mean one of two things: one, he had either summoned her from the depths of hell when he spoke her name to Ginny two days prior or, two, someone had spoken to her about his topic at breakfast the day before. Though he rather hoped he had somehow beckoned her by muttering her name, karma surely, Draco knew that it couldn’t be that. One of his friends had run to his ex to gossip.

Bloody Zabini.

Draco followed Astoria’s lead into a high-end restaurant she had always favored when they dated. He trailed her silently, pulling out her seat when she went to sit, before taking a spot across from her. The waiters came and went, Draco’s words monotone and automatic.

Astoria had been a significant part of Draco’s life once he was cleared by the Ministry. She had helped him climb his way back into the favor of the public, she had helped heal the fractured relationship he had with his mother, she had properly distracted him when everything became too much. 

But Astoria had also manipulated him when he was weak and not thinking. She knew how to twist and turn people’s emotions and opinions and she had done it to him on more than one occasion. Draco had already been used too much, far too much, and it was only when he untangled himself from her that he saw how far down she had dragged him.

It had been stupid of Draco to not view Astoria as dangerous from the very beginning. He had always viewed her as brilliant, beautiful, worthy but he had never thought her dangerous. And, Merlin, he was done with danger. But… seeing her at his manor unannounced, with Ginny’s harsh breathing behind him and Teddy’s laughter echoing in the hall—it had filled him with panic. Draco needed to figure out why she showed up unexpectedly. He needed to fix it, quickly.

“Draco,” Astoria called, smiling slightly. “I hadn’t thought I’d be seeing you so soon.”

“Yes, well, when you arrive at people’s homes that tends to happen—seeing them, that is.”

“I simply thought a little date would be fun for us. It’s been far too long.”

Draco leaned back in his seat, eyebrow rising.

“Was it Zabini who spoke to you, then?” Draco asked.

Astoria stiffened, her eyes narrowing.

“Can’t I see you without an alternate motive?” 

“That has very rarely been the case.”

“True,” she agreed.

Draco let out a breath, his eyes leaving her as he took in the area around him.

“You’re really rather clueless, aren’t you, Draco?” Astoria’s words slid over him, sweet and gentle, but he found himself focused on the young family a few tables away.

The father was smiling brightly, balancing a toddler on his legs, as the baby giggled and grabbed for his hair. A little girl, likely Teddy’s age, was speaking quickly to her mother and the mother was nodding along as she fixed the girl her plate. It reminded him of the meal he spent with Ginny, Teddy, and Rose. 

The dinner at Granger’s had been random and if the group had been any different he would’ve been extremely uncomfortable. But it had been Teddy and Rose, it had been Ginny, with her twinkling eyes and loud laugh. And Ginny had seemed happy too while she watched Rose and Teddy fight for Draco’s attention.

Draco had never thought about having children before—at least, not seriously. His mother would randomly bring the idea up in conversation, that she’d like grandchildren one day, that it was his responsibility to continue the Malfoy lineage. Her concerns were so common to him, though, that he simply waved them away.

One day, one day, he’d always say.

Now, however, he could see himself with a child. He could teach the child about Quidditch, tell the child about his adventures at Hogwarts, show the child how to be a respected member of society. Lucius had spent plenty of time with Draco when Draco was still young but not as much as his nanny had. But Draco would spend as much time as possible with the kid, would share the burden with his wife, wouldn’t require a nanny—

He thought implicitly of Ginny, of how she smoothed back Rose’s hair so the girl could see better, and something warm flashed through him.

“Are you _listening_ to me?” 

Draco looked away from the family, startled by how quickly his thoughts had drifted. Astoria sat before him, pretty eyes narrowed as she studied him. He hadn’t realized he was ignoring her till her normally soft words turned sharp. 

“I do wonder if you realize the road you’re going down,” Astoria said.

Draco frowned.

“What does that mean?” 

She lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. Astoria had always been very beautiful to Draco, with her pale skin and large eyes. He could remember mornings lying in bed beside her, hands itching to run through her dark locks, before hesitation stopped him. The word beautiful hadn’t suited her properly by the end of their relationship but calculating had.

He had always been afraid if he showed her too much of his darkness, of his haunted past, that she’d figure out a way to use it to her advantage. Draco had been so tired of worrying about protecting himself against those he was supposed to trust that he gave up.

Perhaps that was why it hadn’t worked out with Astoria. Maybe it hadn’t been her manipulation, maybe it had been his lack of courage and his exhaustion with those who weren’t true.

“It’s rather rude to have me out to lunch and spend most of your time staring at a family on the other side of the room,” she replied, startling him from his thoughts again.

Draco scowled.

“Don’t be daft,” he said shortly. “You had only just begun your ritual of insulting me before I got… distracted. Please, continue.”

Her lips twisted into a small smile.

“I apologize that you view it as me insulting you,” she told him, lifting her glass of wine to her lips and taking a long sip. Then, “I’m simply pointing out some things about yourself that I fear you’re ignorant of.”

_“It’s not really an apology, is it, Malfoy, if you’re making it seem like I’m the one in the wrong! Take some responsibility, you giant git.”_

Ginny’s words echoed in his head and he fought back a grin. How many times had she yelled that at him over the last few years? Perhaps that’s why she had been so surprised by his apology back at the manor. It had sent a trill of delight through him; he had managed to amaze her in a good way.

But the reminder of their brief time together at Malfoy Manor filled him with dread. He had left her there with no explanation. It didn’t sit well with him. 

“Continue, please,” Draco insisted again, once the silence between them stretched on too long.

“Your relationship with that Weasley girl is getting a little out of hand, isn’t it?”

Fucking Zabini, he knew it. Torn between groaning or laughing, Draco instead ran a hand down the front of his shirt, needing a moment. Astoria sniffed as she waited. Amusement was beginning to win the battle of his emotions, if only because his nerves couldn’t handle anymore anxiety.

“We’re having this talk again, are we? Really now, Astoria, I’ve been playing Quidditch with the girl for years now. That’s the extent of our relationship.”

“You're _friends_ with her,” Astoria spat the word. “Aren’t you? Isn’t that what you’ve maintained to your mother, to your friends, to me?”

Draco stiffened slightly. There was something in her tone that he wasn’t fond of. Eyeing her warily, Draco ran his tongue over his teeth before leaning forward ever so slightly.

_This_ is what he had been afraid of.

“What’s the point of this?” he almost snarled.

He took a drink of scotch to hide his sudden frustration but Astoria was quick, too quick. She looked smug as she leaned forward also.

“You have that girl staying at Malfoy Manor, watching over that brat with you, as though this is _normal_ and _fine_. You had a _sex dream_ about her! A Weasley!”

“Does Blaise run and tell you everything that spills out of my mouth?”

“Only the important things,” she acknowledged. “Don’t you think it cruel to tease her so?” 

“Tease her how?” Draco bit out.

“She’s in love with you, Draco. I could see it in the five seconds I was forced to endure her company. You’re giving her plenty of false hope by continuing to let her live with you—”

If he had anything in his mouth, he would’ve sprayed it out in shock. He didn’t bother trying to school his features.

“In love with me? Ginny Weasley?” he croaked.

Honestly, what was happening to the world? Was this reality he lived in a false one?

Astoria looked over him.

“Yes, you fool. How have you not—”

Draco couldn’t help it. He started laughing, more loudly and recklessly than he usually allowed in public. Ginny in love with _him_? Putting his glass down, Draco reached for Astoria’s hand but she snatched it away and settled it in her lap. 

“You’re mistaken,” Draco said once he calmed down, though his teeth were still bared in a wide smile. “She can barely put up with me, that woman. Whatever you think you see is wrong.”

Because, really, though Draco was beginning to warm up to the idea of having feelings for Ginny—an idea that hadn’t left his mind since Pansy planted it there, making him both insanely anxious and incredibly relieved at the sight of the ginger haired harpy when she arrived at his doorstep earlier—he knew that Ginny didn’t feel the same way. He simply knew it. 

“I’m not wrong, Draco,” Astoria snapped. “That blood traitor is in love with you and you’re getting rather careless in your association with her.” 

It was as though someone had cursed him. Any remaining trace of humor and delight left him as his stare hardened. 

“Don’t call her that,” he warned, voice low.

Astoria gestured impatiently with her hands.

“Clueless, just as I said. You need to open your eyes and realize the dangerous path you’re on. How did Weasley feel when I showed up for our date?”

“This is hardly a _date_ ,” Draco hissed. “And I’m sure she felt a bit discarded since I had invited her over to spend time with me, not to watch the child.”

Draco leaned back in his seat, annoyed by the direction of this conversation. He was half tempted to look away from Astoria, to ignore her till whatever fight was in her drained out, to find the family at the table again. But he could feel the intensity of Astoria’s gaze on him and knew he’d have no such luck.

“To spend time with you, Draco? Do you hear yourself? Why would she want to spend time with you if she didn’t care for you dearly? And why would you want to spend time with her? Answer my questions, Draco. Don’t waste my time with anymore lies or you’ll regret it.”

Fighting back the temptation to roll his eyes, Draco grabbed his glass again to drink from. Was it in any way possible that Ginny did have feelings for Draco? His mind chanted _no, no_ but there was something pumping in his blood that sang _maybe_. She had asked him to stay for dinner at her family’s house, she had watched the conversation to make sure no one was too cruel to him, she had asked to stay with him that night, to share his bed with him again. And when she had arrived today, pretty with her hair down and eyes bright, excitement had been radiating off of her.

It was the only thing that had snapped him out of his worried thoughts; worried thoughts that were about her and these new feelings he was beginning to discover, thoughts about whether he’d be able to deal with this without letting Ginny know what was going on. 

Hadn’t she asked about Astoria also? He had almost forgotten that he had lied to Ginny about his lunch obligations with Astoria during Teddy’s game. When she had asked, it took a moment for his cloudy mind to realize what she was talking about. Why would she ask if she hadn’t been curious about it?

And… the way her demeanor changed at the arrival of said witch. She had shielded her face from him but he had seen how quickly the emotion had washed over her. Ginny had been upset. When he was leaving, when he was trying to talk to her and tell her he’d be back as soon as he could, had she even heard him? There was some faraway look in her eyes that Draco didn’t like, that made him feel as though she hadn’t heard a word he said.

The desire to leave this table, to go back to his manor, to Ginny, was suddenly overwhelming.

Even if she didn’t care for him like that, though something in his mind was beginning to think _maybe, maybe she did_ he had still abandoned her. 

But then Astoria’s words, _she’s in love with you_ , came back to him and he couldn’t help but ponder on the idea of it longer.

It was ludicrous. Ginny hadn’t even wanted to help him watch Teddy. If she had a crush on him, wouldn’t she have wanted to spend as much time with him as possible? But she had come with him, had stayed in his bed with him that first night, had helped him through every step. Was it possible?

Drumming his fingers on the table, Draco met Astoria’s knowing gaze.

“You’ve always been horrible with reading women, Draco,” Astoria informed him briskly. “That’s why we never worked out.”

Bloody Pansy had said that same thing.

“That’s not the only reason why,” Draco added lightly.

Astoria’s face softened and she frowned at Draco.

“But we’re friends, aren’t we? We’ve always been friends, in some form or another. And I really think it best if you heed my warning. Do not keep leading Weasley on. We did not win the war. If you get into a relationship with her and it goes poorly, imagine the slander you’ll experience. Your mother wouldn’t be able to take it. It will not lead to a good ending for you, Draco. You have obligations.”

Despite how horrible his relationship with Astoria had ended, Draco couldn’t deny that she was his friend. Not on the level of Pansy or Flint or… or Ginny… but a friend, nonetheless. 

Releasing a quiet breath, Draco let his eyes wander around the restaurant. Without realizing it, he found himself searching for the family. 

But they were gone.

)*(*)*(

The sun had set by the time Ginny arrived back at Malfoy Manor with Teddy. When Draco had left, she found that despite the high ceilings and large rooms she had trouble breathing. She couldn’t stay there, not at the dreaded manor, not without Draco. 

Ginny took Teddy and left. 

She needed to do something to stop her thoughts from drifting to what had played out in the corridor of Draco’s house. Every time she thought on it she sunk further and further into a panic. How had she let her emotions get the better of her? How had she read the situation so poorly? How hadn’t she realized she was forcing so many of her wants and needs on Draco when he didn’t ask for them?

At the beginning of the summer, Ginny had been worried about ruining her friendship and working relationship with Draco if she spent time with him one on one. But after the dinner at the Burrow she had been ready to throw that concern out the window and do as she pleased. Laughably, she had thought Draco’s opinions on her were changing and that she had a _chance_. It was stupid, she realized now. 

Ginny was almost thankful that Greengrass had shown up when she did.

Because when Ginny had arrived at the manor earlier she was feeling more reckless than she ever had before. It had been buried under her skin for so long, the desire to press Draco and see if there was something between them. The want became persistent, feeling as though it was peeling back her skin to escape. Who knows what she would’ve done, would’ve ruined, if she had spent the afternoon with him?

Instead, Teddy and Ginny spent some time at the Burrow with Molly. When her mum brought up Draco, letting Ginny know he was invited to their dinner on Friday, she had felt sick. She left with Teddy soon after, realizing that Harry would likely be back from the Ministry. Ginny was right and the trio spend the rest of the day eating and laughing outside. If only things had been different, this could’ve been her life. Lounging around with Harry, watching Teddy, having absolutely no thoughts or worries about Draco Malfoy.

It was only when the sky was dark and Teddy was beginning to nod off on Harry’s couch, that Ginny realized she should head back to the manor. Maybe Draco wasn’t there yet. Or, hopefully, he was so she could drop Teddy off and leave right away.

The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time with Draco. Her emotions were too up and down. Even the idea of going back to the manor made her heartbeat skyrocket, her palms sweat, her breathing quicken. It had to be done, though. They arrived by Floo, Teddy half asleep against her leg.

The drawing room was filled with shadows but empty when they arrived. Ginny ushered Teddy out of the hearth gently before lifting him into her arms—bloody hell, he was heavy—and making her way through the manor to his bedroom. Teddy didn’t argue with her as she pulled off his shoes before laying out pajamas. He thanked her sleepily, hair flashing ginger before going teal, as he began to fall asleep properly tucked in. She ran her fingers through his locks as she looked down at him.

Ginny was half tempted to say goodbye to him. But maybe she’d go to Harry’s and spend time with the both of them next Saturday, after Draco traded the boy off to his godfather. She could still see Teddy without having to see Draco.

Ugh, everything was so messed up.

Leaving the room, Ginny noted that Draco’s bedroom light was off before heading back to the drawing room. She could wait for Draco there then use Floo to get back home. They could have a quick, easy goodbye and he’d think nothing was amiss and then… then she would see him at next week’s practice, after she had plenty of time to get her head straight and get over the embarrassment of how idiotic she had been the past few weeks.

The silhouette of a figure by the wide windows in the drawing room alerted her right away that she wasn’t alone. The figure turned at the sound of her footsteps pausing. The light from the fire shone on him, highlighting Draco’s pale features. Her heart, which had been properly lodged in her throat, only picked up speed.

“Hey.” She stepped further into the room. “Teddy’s in bed. I’m, um, just going to—”

Draco walked closer to her and she saw his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands flexing. Not good signs. Was he—was he angry with her?

“Thank you for returning him,” Draco hissed. “I had thought you decided to run away with him to punish me.”

“What? Punish you for what? You left me here to babysit him and I did. Sorry to inform you but this manor isn’t exactly the most welcoming place so I decided it best to leave.”

“Didn’t think to leave a note? Send an owl? Thought it would be better for me to come home and—” 

Draco ran a hand roughly through his hair, his lips pressed together.

“Were you home when I got here?” Ginny asked sharply. “Wanted to wait for me to put him to bed before you started yelling at me?”

“ _Yes!_ You can’t leave with him on a whim. It’s irresponsible and careless!”

“Why? You left him with me on a whim! How was I supposed to know when you got home from your date? Sorry, I thought it would take longer for you to finish up your slotted time with Greengrass.”

Her voice shook as she spat the words out. Ginny lifted a hand and pressed it against her head. A headache that had been hiding out of view since Greengrass had arrived was now beginning to make itself known. This was stupid. She had to leave.

Ginny walked up to the fireplace abruptly, grabbing the jar of Floo powder from the mantel and extracting a handful.

“You’re leaving?”

Surprise briefly took over his temper.

“Yes,” she sighed, hating how weak her voice had gone.

“You’ve never run away from a fight.”

“I’m tired. And I’ve done my job, haven’t I? Teddy’s sound asleep.”

She heard Draco take several steps towards her. Always, she always heard his light steps.

“I hadn’t meant for that to happen.”

The words were barely spoken at a whisper, all his previous anger vanished. Ginny shivered. He hadn’t meant for what to happen exactly?

She wanted desperately to turn around, to face him so she could see what he truly meant, but she couldn’t move her body. What if she didn’t like what she found? What if it only worsened the anger, the hurt she felt?

Because, dear Merlin, this hurt.

Ginny had done it to herself, really. She deserved this pain. She had told herself she’d keep her emotions in check around Draco and she hadn’t. It wasn’t his fault. This was entirely her own to take blame for. 

Her shoulders sagged as she put the jar back on the mantel, the light dust of the Floo powder warm in her palm.

“You asked for my help and I shouldn’t be,” the words were choking her so she swallowed to try to get them out. “You asked for me to help with Teddy and I shouldn’t be angry that you had me watch him today, I hadn’t, I just hadn’t—”

This was pitiful and embarrassing and she stopped speaking so it didn’t get any worse. 

“Ginny.” 

He sounded much closer than she had thought he was. 

“Look at me. Ginny, look at me.”

She turned slightly, hesitant to meet his gaze. When she did, she saw the confusion and concern that painted his features. 

“What’s going on?” he questioned softly.

There was no way to properly explain the emotions that stormed within her, the tiredness that now sat in her bones, the muddled thoughts in her head. This wasn’t fair to him. It was clear how lost he was by what she was saying, what she had done. 

Ginny licked her lips and shook her head.

“I’m tired, that’s it, really,” she lied. “I’m going to go home.”

She met his gaze only when she was already in the hearth, the flames gently tickling her. But he hadn’t gone to stop her. Didn’t call for her to stay. And, despite the pang of loss, Ginny knew it was better this way. Maybe he’d put it up to hormones or exhaustion or… It didn’t matter, because he didn’t stop her from leaving.

)*(*)*(

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

It felt like the fiftieth time that Hermione had asked Ginny that question over the last week. When Ginny had shown up at her sister-in-law’s house last Tuesday, the day after the incident with Draco, she had been unable to stop the words from pouring from her lips.

_She destroyed everything. She was losing it. How did she let this happen? Draco was going to think her mad. How did she fix this? How did she fix this?_

Hermione had listened to her, had offered her comfort, had made hot cocoa despite it being the end of June, and the two women had stayed at the house all day and talked. By the time Ron came home, Ginny was sleeping on the couch, too worn out to leave.

Of course, even though Ginny had felt slightly better after getting everything off her chest, Hermione had made a point to either write or stop by Ginny’s every day for the rest of the week. Now, exactly seven days later, Hermione had begged Ginny to come with her to Diagon Alley. Apparently, she needed to go to Flourish and Blotts again and would need help with Rose. It was likely a lie and Ginny knew that but she appreciated her friend’s attempt at getting her out of the house.

Focusing on said friend, Ginny offered her a tiny smile.

“I swear I’m fine, Hermione,” Ginny said, for the fiftieth time.

Was she fine? That was yet to be determined, she supposed. Come Thursday, only two days from now, she’d have to be in Draco’s company once again for practice with the Tornados. Maybe she would call out sick. Or, maybe, he’d call out sick. Then she could go another two weeks without seeing him.

She was a coward.

“Has he written you more letters?”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed and Hermione shrugged.

“I know he’s been writing you,” Hermione told her.

“And how do you know that?” 

“Because you’re his friend and you left his house suddenly, upset. I find it hard to believe you didn’t worry him that night and that he hasn’t reached out to you.”

It was true. There was fairly decent stack of letters from Draco that remained unopened on her kitchen table. The first letter had arrived Monday night, within minutes of her getting home. She couldn’t make herself open it, too afraid he’d be asking her to go back to his manor, so she didn’t. Every day since he had written to her and every day she had ignored the letters, letting them decorate her table.

Ginny desperately wanted to know what the letters said. But she couldn’t bring herself to read them. She needed to get her head in a better space before she opened herself to his questions and worry.

“Either way,” Hermione continued, when she realized Ginny wasn’t going to say anything. “Even if you hadn’t scared him the other night, I saw the way he had been looking at you. He’d want to hear from you if he hadn’t for a while.”

That again. Ever since Ginny had told Hermione everything that had happened, Hermione was insistent on _something_ being different with Draco. It was kind of hard to take what Hermione said for truth, though, since the witch hadn’t spent much time with Draco until recently. But Hermione swore, time and time again, that the way Draco looked at her meant _something_.

“Hermione, please,” Ginny groaned. “You’re not helping. Remember? I’m trying to get over him.”

“Seems rather silly to me, when instead you could simply talk to him,” Hermione retorted.

“I don’t want to ruin everything.”

“But ignoring his letters after suddenly leaving isn’t going to hurt your friendship?”

Ginny frowned. She hated when Hermione made a good point.

“That’s much easier to repair than if I threw myself at him and he rejected me.”

“Your logic isn’t making much sense,” Hermione informed her briskly. “Instead of trying to get over Draco—”

“Ginevra Weasley, Hermione Granger, what a pleasant surprise.”

The additional voice to their conversation frightened the two women so badly that Ginny almost dropped Rose and Hermione let out a squeak of surprise. Spinning around, Ginny was astonished to find Blaise Zabini grinning cheekily at them. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?

She remembered Draco at their last practice, holding up his hand to count the five friends he had. Zabini was one of them.

“Granger-Weasley,” Hermione said automatically, her cheeks flushed. 

“Yes, of course,” Zabini agreed.

His attention was hardly on Hermione, though. Curious and dark, his eyes lingered on Ginny. Folding his arms across his chest, Zabini leaned against one of the bookshelves. It wobbled slightly but, held by magic, did no more.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Zabini told her, grinning. “Ginny.”

Her senses were on overload as she desperately tried to read his face. Had he heard anything that Hermione or she had said? Merlin, they were so stupid to talk about Malfoy in public like this. If Zabini hadn’t heard, someone else could have. 

But, even so, what was Blaise Zabini doing here, talking to them? Marcus Flint had at least been properly introduced to Ginny on several occasions; running into him was strange but he was always kind. Even Pansy Parkinson would have been less of a surprise than Zabini.

“Rosie, come with mummy,” Hermione called. “We’ve a whole list of things to get.”

Rose straightened in Ginny’s arms, already kicking her legs to get to Hermione. With a slight _oomph_ , Ginny let the wiggling toddler down. She glared at Hermione as she walked down one of the aisles, leaving Ginny with the strange man. Hermione only offered her an apologetic shrug before disappearing from view.

Cautiously, Ginny looked back at him.

“I should probably be going too—”

“What’ve you been doing this past week, Ginny?”

The way he said her name was odd and made her frown. She supposed she had never heard him say her name before but there was something else to it. He sounded amused as he said it, positively tickled, as though he knew a secret that he enjoyed holding over her. Ginny didn’t like it and wanted to stomp on his foot to make him stop.

“Family things,” she replied tersely.

“Ah, yes, good that. After having to help Malfoy for so long with the boy?”

Ginny gave him a short nod.

“Yes, but you’ve stopped that, haven’t you? One night in the manor scare you off?” he inquired curiously, tilting his head as he watched her.

“It didn’t scare me off,” Ginny growled defensively. “I had other obligations—”

“Yeah, Draco has been chatting my ear off about _family obligations_ and _fantasy versus reality_ and, hell, it’s been a ton of bull shit. Really grinds on my nerves.”

“That sounds rough. Look, I really should be going—”

“It is rough, I agree. Can we talk about hypothetical situations?”

“What?”

“Hypothetical situations,” Zabini told her simply, shrugging. “Let’s say I invited you back to Malfoy Manor, I’ll even have Draco clean it up nice for you, for some tea and biscuits with Parkinson, Malfoy, and I. Would you come?”

Ginny froze. 

“No,” she answered stupidly, at a loss for words.

“Malfoy said as much.”

“He’s been talking about me? To you?” she questioned, instantly suspicious.

Zabini leaned his head back and laughed. It ended abruptly and then he was staring at her again, his lips twisted into a small smirk.

“Here and there, of course. Draco has been rather tiffed with me since the other day, apparently doesn’t like me spreading what I find _fascinating_ news to friends. Says I’ve ruined _everything_ but I told him he was being dramatic. Malfoy didn’t like that, no. But to each their own. Back on topic, Ginny, I do have a favor to ask of you in order to help win me back Malfoy’s favor—”

“What did you do to make him so angry?”

The question was a simple one, for a friend. But Zabini was not a friend and he stilled as he stared at her. Then he let out another short laugh, though genuine amusement painted his dark features as he leaned forward. Ginny fought the urge to step back, instead looking from one eye to other, curious despite herself.

“I’m afraid if I tell you he’ll only be angrier with me. My only request is you come for tea with us.”

“No.”

“Don’t trust me?” Zabini asked, offended.

“No,” she responded, crossing her arms.

“Smart girl. This has been fun, really, but if you’re not willing to help me you’re rather in the way of everything. But it’s been a pleasure meeting you, gave me a chance to see why he likes you,” Zabini admitted, wagging his finger. “Blunt, cautious, yet somehow friendly and witty.”

Ginny’s heart raced. Who liked her? Who was Zabini talking about?

“Ta!” 

Before she could muster the words to question him further, the dark man had disappeared in the crowd of Flourish and Blotts. For a long moment, Ginny stood by herself, letting people brush past her to get where they needed to. Her head felt fuzzy and her hands shaky. Why would Zabini think her going to tea to meet up with Draco would help fix whatever fight they had been in? What secret had Zabini told that Draco hadn’t wanted known?

Was she even involved with this or was it a trick Zabini was pulling on her?

Slowly, Ginny made her way to the front of the bookstore, sure that Hermione and Rose would be near the register to pay. When she didn’t spot them, she went to look through the shop again only to see the pair coming back inside. Her eyes looked from her friend to the crowd behind her—she gasped when she saw the back of Blaise Zabini disappearing. 

Yanking the door open, Ginny stood in the doorway to block them entry.

“Were you talking to Zabini?”

Hermione’s eyes were wide at the sight of Ginny but she let out an affronted sigh.

“What? No! Why would you think that?”

“Because you were both outside, at the same time, after he had just finished harassing me,” she said pointedly.

“I’m sure he wasn’t harassing you,” Hermione paused. When Ginny didn’t move, she sighed. “Ginny, I’m your friend. I only have your best interests at heart.”

“That’s not reassuring! Hermione! Did you—oh, sorry, yeah, I’ll move.”

Ginny was forced to step out of the doorway and into Diagon Alley by a disgruntled customer. She narrowed her eyes when they landed on Hermione but the older witch hardly seemed bothered, instead shrinking her books and placing them in her bag. Groaning, Ginny stepped forward to grab Rose’s hand while Hermione struggled to get everything in place.

When she was done, she looked up and blew a piece of hair from her face, smiling slightly.

“Want to do dinner with me and Ron tonight?”

“Are you going to tell me what you said to Zabini?”

“I apologized that my friend was paranoid and rude,” Hermione teased. At Ginny’s shocked look, she laughed. “I’m joking! I really didn’t talk to him, Ginny. It was a coincidence.”

Ginny didn’t believe in coincidences, not when Hermione, the most logical person Ginny knew, tried to use it as an excuse. But she didn’t have time to continue bullying her. Instead she said no to dinner, hoping a night by herself would convince her to open the letters. 

)*(*)*(

The Tornados practice had been cancelled, what with Asma sick and Roger on vacation, spurring a sudden and surprising bout of sympathy from the coaches—had they finally realized the team wasn’t in the playoffs anymore and didn’t need to practice? Normally such a joyous event would be something Draco celebrated but not this week. No, the practice being canceled also destroyed the one chance Draco had of meeting up with Ginny without it being forced. And… and he didn’t know what to do. Fucking Zabini. He ruined this all, hadn’t he?

“Fucking Zabini,” Draco repeated out loud.

“Now, stop that, there’s a child somewhere in this manor who should not hear such horrible things.”

Taking his hand off his eyes, Draco looked over to see Blaise standing in his doorway. 

“What are you doing here?”

“The real question, Malfoy, is what are _you_ doing?”

“Flint and Pansy took Teddy out,” he said, half shooing Blaise out of his room with his hand. “Now leave.”

“Wait, _what_? You let them take that child from this manor? Have you lost your mind?”

“They figured if I could enjoy him they could too. They wanted to embark on this adventure together.”

It had been rather reckless of him to let Marcus and Pansy take Teddy without him there. But, surprisingly, Teddy had been really excited about the idea and Flint had promised not to hurt the boy or lose him. Then Pansy made the same promise and, since he trusted Pansy more, he agreed. Honestly, he needed the time too. The past week and a half had been close to hellish for him.

Ginny had left. She had left and she had been upset, hurt, angry. While Draco liked to pretend those emotions had nothing to do with him and didn’t bother him, he wasn’t sure. Now the idea that Draco cared for Ginny more than he should seemed like the most factual and solid thing in his life. And the thought that Ginny liked him too, that she could possibly see him as more than a friend, clung to him like Devil’s Snare. 

She had thought it a date, his lunch with Astoria. Her words, spat with such emotion—how was I supposed to know when you got home from your _date_ —confirmed it. Was that why she was upset? Was that why she continued to ignore his owls? Even Teddy had been asking after Ginny, wondering why she didn’t want to hang out with them anymore.

If Ginny somehow did like Draco and thought him dating again, that could explain it.

But he didn’t know how to deal with it. If she wasn’t reading his letters, was he supposed to stalk over to her flat and _make_ her pay attention to him? That seemed… distasteful and forceful. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she was spending time with her family. Or maybe she had planned some trip and never told him.

Bloody hell, the reasons she was no longer spending time with him were endless.

Perhaps she realized how worthless he was. Maybe she heard him speak his father’s words one too many times, despite how often he tried to make sure that didn’t happen. The way he challenged her that last night, angry that she had taken Teddy with no warning, might have kept her away. He hadn’t meant to be so livid but he had come home, wanting to fix things with her, and she was gone and Teddy was gone too and the boy was _Draco’s_ responsibility and he had let him disappear with no idea of where he’d gone.

“Can you stop moping around? You don’t have much time,” Zabini told him, stalking into the room to poke him with his wand.

“Time for what?” Draco grumbled.

“Ah, oops, right. I never told you. Got a little, er, distracted by Victor Krum. My newest conquest. Have you seen him recently? Handsome bloke, really. Anyway, back on topic, I really am the worst, aren’t I?” 

Draco glanced at Blaise in confusion. The smirk on his friend’s lips did nothing to squash his sudden panic.

“What did you do?” 

“ _Me?_ I did nothing. I’m simply trying to mend our damaged friendsh—”

“Zabini!”

“You’ll never guess who stopped me after I talked to your lover, Ginny—”

“You saw her?” He sat up so quickly dots appeared in his vision. “Where?”

Alarm was threatening to overwhelm him. Blaise had seen Ginny somewhere? Knowing Zabini, that meant he had stopped and spoken to her. What had he said to her? What had _she_ said to _him_?

“—right outside the bookshop, she stopped me!” Blaise continued loudly over Draco. “Granger! Hermione Granger! Who would’ve thought? Not me. So—”

“Can you get to the point?” Draco hissed, tempted to take out his wand and curse Blaise.

“I’m _trying_ ,” Blaise responded coolly. “You keep interrupting me.”

When Draco’s expression darkened considerably, Zabini sighed.

“Fine, fine. Granger stopped me outside Flourish and Blotts. Came running after me, actually, with that mousey thing she calls her daughter. She said Ginny’s been a right terror the past week and she knows how to fix it.”

A right terror? Ginny? Why? Because—could it be? Could she have been upset because of him? Because of their fight the other night? Or, maybe, because they hadn’t been speaking?

Something akin to hope flared in Draco’s chest, pushing his breath out of his lungs. He wanted to ignore it but it was blooming, flooding his body with optimism.

“How?”

“Well, if you’re willing to take a Mudblood’s advice—”

Draco shook his head once, stopping what would’ve surely been one of Blaise’s long winded, rude explanations.

“Tell me,” Draco ordered.

Grumbling, Blaise replied.

“She says Molly Weasley invited you to dinner at the Burrow. Granger thinks that’s likely the best place for you to meet up with your lover again. But, ah, the dinner is tonight. I thought she said it normally starts around eight but she told me that you’d probably do best to get there early—”

It was Friday. It was Friday and the weekly dinner at the Burrow was happening. Pulling out his pocket watch, Draco stared in slight horror. It was already almost seven and he had been lying in bed, drowning in his sorrows, all day. He needed to shower. He needed to get ready. He needed to prep himself.

“Did I do good?” Blaise asked sweetly.

“Yes,” Draco breathed. “Now get the hell out of here, I need to think.”

“Think? About what? Don’t waste this gift—”

“Leave, Blaise!”

Blaise rolled his eyes and sauntered out of the room.

“Ta!” he called over his shoulder as Draco rushed to the shower.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Enjoy!


	6. Chapter Six

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

While the idea of finally seeing Ginny had initially filled Draco with excitement, those feelings dissipated as soon as he apparated to the Burrow. The sun was beginning to set, casting an unearthly glow on the rickety house before him. On one side of the yard, the chickens took no mind of him. On the other side, two deer walked near the edge of the trees.

Draco took a deep breath, hoping his stomach would stop twisting, and began towards the Burrow. He wanted to stuff his hands in his pockets, to appear casual and cool, but he couldn’t stop tapping his fingers against his leg in nervousness. And he was here as an uninvited guest, not the head of the house. If he showed up trying to look anything that wasn’t himself in a house where the majority of the occupants still despised him, he’d likely be mocked.

And what if Ginny wasn’t happy to see him? He was basically inviting himself to her family event in the hopes that she’d be pleased. But their last meeting had been so awful that Draco wouldn’t be surprised if she was still upset. It was his fault he left her with Teddy that day, it was his fault that he had been frustrated she hadn’t felt safe at the manor without him there and that he opted to not tell her that, it was his fault that he hadn’t taken note of her feelings until it was too late.

This was all his fault.

It was also Blaise’s, gossiping bastard, but he couldn’t lay it too heavily on his friend—

“Draco!” a voice called, cutting into his thoughts, at the same time another voice said, “Malfoy! What a surprise.”

Draco turned slowly to see Angelina Johnson and the twin, George, walking towards him. They had apparated in the same spot he had. Thankfully, he had moved forward a bit before nerves got the best of   
him. Angelina looked absolutely delighted to see him, running up to him and throwing her arm around his shoulders.

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight! Dinner wasn’t half as fun without you there last week,” she told him, the sincerity in her words forcing a small smile from him.

“Yeah, everything seemed much dimmer at the table,” the twin agreed. “I thought it had something to do with the fact that your fluorescent skin wasn’t there to blind everyone but Angelina disagreed.”

“You look very nice,” Angelina noted, looking him up and down. “Trying to impress us?”

He cleared his throat, hating that both George and Angelina were staring at him in amusement. Draco had made a point to not dress up, in fear of looking embellished. Instead he opted for a simple white button up, sleeves rolled up, with a pair of clean slacks—if this was him looking agreeable, he couldn’t imagine their reactions when he actually dressed to impress.   
Both Angelina and George’s eyes lingered on the faded mark on his forearm but they didn’t comment.

Draco had contemplated hiding it (his diminished Dark Mark that still caused him trouble) from view for this dinner was hardly the time to remind the Weasley family that he had once served the Dark Lord, but something urged him to bare it. If he was going to do this, if he was going to talk to Ginny and see if she really… if there was something there, he needed her to realize everything that came with him. If her family didn’t care for it, then she needed to see that too and make a decision.

“I wasn’t trying to impress either of you,” Draco drawled. 

The twin’s eyebrows rose quickly.

“Is that so?” he asked, his teeth bared in a grin as sharp as razors. “Trying to get a reaction from ickle Ronniekins? He’ll be most flattered, I’m sure, but I’m not certain you’re his type.”

Angelina stepped away from Draco and the trio began up the dirt trail to the Burrow. George continued speaking, earning a laugh from Angelina.

“He prefers someone with brains. No offense, Malfoy, but you seem rather dimwitted to willingly come to dinner with our family for a second time in less than a year. Brave, yeah, but dimwitted.”

“He is not stupid!” Angelina protested, skipping up the steps. “Your mum is the one who invited him. I think even Ginny was surprised by that.”

At the mention of Ginny, Draco’s heart twisted. He ran a hand through his hair to distract himself. The twin opened the door, waving his hand dramatically to allow Angelina and Draco entry.

“I come to your dinners all the time,” she pointed out.

“Yeah but your father isn’t an evil git that my family despises and you weren’t a prat in school,” George told her. “And it doesn’t matter if mum invited him, she invites everyone to dinner.”

Draco frowned.

“My mum loves collecting lonely, lost boys to nurture,” the twin informed Draco as he stepped inside.

“That sounded… oddly perverted,” Draco muttered.

George’s face twisted as he thought over what he said.

“What was that?”

The familiar voice of Molly Weasley interrupted George’s thought process. Still pulling a face, George headed to the kitchen.

“Nothing, mum! You’ll never guess who’s arrived!”

“Who’s that? Harry?”

Draco fought both a groan and the temptation to turn on his heel and leave at George’s obnoxious laughter. Instead he swallowed his panic and followed George and Angelina into the kitchen. At the stove, Molly accepted a kiss on the cheek from her son as she stirred something that smelled absolutely delicious in a pot. When Angelina greeted the hen of the house Molly turned, a smile already brightening her aged face.

“Angelina, dear, you look lovely. And—oh! Draco! I hadn’t expected you!”

Molly walked up to Draco, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached before reaching out and grabbing onto his forearm lightly. She was so tiny compared to him but he felt rather small and timid in front of the woman. Her smile didn’t waver when she had turned her attention from Angelina to Draco, comforting him in some odd way, as though she was truly as pleased to see him as she had been Angelina. Then Molly was leading him further into the kitchen.

“Sit, dear, sit. Are you thirsty? Where’s Teddy? Angelina, George, sit, will you?”

She was like a tornado, moving constantly as she forced Angelina into a seat beside Draco before grabbing a pitcher from the counter and bringing it over. Draco eyed it. Unsurprisingly, he saw a crack down the center of it, confirming his suspicion that it was the jug that had shattered the last time he had been at the Burrow. George met his eyes, tossing a quick wink his way, and Draco knew he had noticed the same thing. 

Molly waved her wand, bringing glasses from the cabinets, before taking the seat on the other side of Draco.

“Teddy, dear, where is he?” she asked again.

Draco cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes, he’s with some of my friends.”

“Friends?” George repeated, snorting. “What friends do you have?”

Angelina reached over to punch George’s thigh hard, for he stood within reach of her. 

“Stop that, George. I’m sure Draco has plenty of… trustworthy friends. They are able to handle a child, aren’t they, Draco?” Molly inquired, concern lacing her words.

Pansy Parkinson and Marcus Flint? Draco wasn’t sure how much experience they had with children but he knew that, if anything happened, they’d protect the boy as much as he would. That’s all he could ask for, he supposed. A slight nod from Draco eased Molly’s worry and she stood from her seat, bustling over to the stove to check whatever was cooking. 

“I’m sure Harry would’ve liked to see him tonight. I thought Harry said he might be able to make dinner for once after work,” Molly informed him. “Oh, look, Draco dear, Ginny came back from the pond.”

Every muscle in Draco’s body froze. The air in his lungs burned as it waited for release. Ginny was here. Dealing with the twin and Molly seemed like nothing compared to the thought of finally seeing Ginny face to face after so long. And, suddenly, Draco didn’t want to see her at all. He wanted to leave. Was it too cowardly to get up and run from the table without another word?

But then Molly turned around, still talking, her voice making itself heard.

“When you go outside will you ask Ginny where she put the basket of apples I had asked for? She might’ve left it by the orchard when she took Rose and Victoire down to the pond. I’d like to wash them before dinner begins. Can you ask her for it, Draco? There’s a dear.”

He didn’t realize he was standing and walking towards the back door until Molly began conversation with George and Angelina. The doorknob was cool in the palm of his sweaty hand, offering him temporary relief, and, with a deep breath, he turned it and walked outside. A warm summer breeze greeted him, one he hadn’t noticed when he was panicking in the front yard of the Burrow. It ruffled his hair slightly and he automatically reached up to make sure no strands were out of place.

But then Draco spotted Ginny and all thoughts left him once again. She was approaching from the direction of the pond, as Molly had told him, and even from here he could see that her red locks were loose and damp, spilling in a wild mess down her back. But her hair was bright against the short, white dress she wore. Victoire and Rose were by her side, chatting excitedly up to her. None of them noticed Draco standing on the porch for they were still far off and he was thankful for that.

It gave him a moment to collect himself. Heart in his throat, he took a deep breath to try to put it back in its proper place with no success. All he had to do was take one step, then another, and soon he’d be in front of Ginny and they could talk and everything would be okay—

“What are you staring at, Malfoy?”

Draco looked to the right to find Ginny’s moron of a brother and Granger seated in rocking chairs, studying him. Or, rather, Weasley was glaring at him and Granger was staring at him smugly. She struggled out of her seat, her belly weighing her down, but managed it after Weasley assisted her with a gentle push of his hand. 

“Really, Malfoy, what’s left you with that dumb expression on your face—”

“Ron, stop it, will you?” 

“You aren’t going to hug him, Hermione, are you? Why are you even here, Malfoy?” Weasley continued, though he thankfully stayed in his seat.

“Probably because he was invited,” Granger answered, tossing a frown at her husband over her shoulder.

Then she looked back at Draco and shot a curious smile at him.

“I must admit I’m surprised to see you,” she said softly once she was close enough. “Though I had assumed correctly, of course…”

Draco nodded shortly, hoping she wouldn’t say anything that would cause trouble with the idiot sitting so close by. He already felt anxious enough, here without Ginny’s permission, and wasn’t sure he could handle a verbal berating from Weasley. But Granger continued looking at him, her hands on her stomach. 

“Rose has been asking after you also. She’ll be glad you’re here.”

“Oi, Hermione, stop saying that. She hasn’t been asking for him. Rosie’s been asking for her uncle—”

“Uncle Draco,” Granger interrupted, turning to talk to Weasley.

“—she could mean any uncle, not Malfoy here. Bloody ferret, brain washing my daughter. Malfoy, just so you’re aware, you’re not allowed anywhere near this baby.” He pointed to Granger’s swollen belly. “I don’t need you messing with this one’s head too.”

“Noted,” Draco said, biting back a familiar smirk at Weasley’s frustration.

“Ron, you’re being ridiculous.”

Granger went to walk back towards her husband but Draco grabbed her arm, stopping her. She looked back at him, eyes wide at his unexpected touch. Clearing his throat, he tried to force what he wanted to say out of his throat. It took an awkward moment before the words finally escaped him.

“Thank you, for… this. I wasn’t sure what to do,” he admitted quietly, so Weasley couldn’t hear.

She frowned at him before giving a slow nod.

“I assumed as much. Don’t ruin this,” she warned before continuing back to her husband.

Draco watched her sit before looking back towards the yard. He realized then that he had been spotted by the trio before him. Rose, with her hair pulled into two high buns, was giggling in excitement as she raced towards the house, her cheers of _Uncle Dra-co, Uncle Dra-co_ becoming louder and louder. Victoire, Bill’s daughter who he hadn’t much contact with at the last meal, was grasping Ginny’s hand, pointing to the porch and clearly asking questions.

And Ginny… she was staring at him in disbelief, her eyes wide and her movements slow. He wished desperately that he could read her thoughts, because her expression gave no indication to whether she was pleased to see him or not. 

Letting out a slow breath, Draco descended the back steps and started towards them. Rose met him quickly, her arms reaching up for him. He picked her up with little reluctance, swinging the girl onto his hip. He found it easier to meet her startling blue eyes than to continue looking at Ginny so he turned his attention to her.

“Hi,” the little girl whispered breathlessly. “You’re eating dinner with us!”

“I am.”

“Will you, will you sit next to me?”

“If your father allows it, I suppose,” he responded. 

Rose’s hair, despite being pulled up, was damp also.

“Did you go swimming?”

“With Aunt Gin,” she said, pointing behind her as though he wasn’t sure who Aunt Gin was. “Do you wanna go?”

“Dinner is soon, I think.” His voice shook slightly when he saw that Ginny had stopped walking, for she was now close enough that if he reached out he could touch her. “Go see your mother and father, okay?”

Draco put Rose down and was surprised that she didn’t cling to him like she had the other week at Teddy’s little league game. Victoire walked by him, her gaze suspicious, but said nothing. It left him alone with Ginny, past the garden but still in sight of her brother and sister-in-law on the porch. He didn’t want to say anything here, close enough to be heard by the others. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say either way.

Because the relief at seeing Ginny before him was choking him. She looked distractingly pretty, more freckles decorating her skin than the last time they had been together. The white of her dress only emphasized her tan, her ginger hair, her bright eyes. Draco realized his gaze was lingering on her pink lips and he forced himself to meet her eyes, though the coward in him didn’t want to.

Had he always felt this overwhelming relief at the sight of Ginny? Perhaps it was because, though there were slight differences to her appearance, she was overall the same. She was the same woman who he fought with when he first joined the Tornados, the same girl who agreed to room with him at training camp when no one else would, the very same Weasley who shared jokes with him in the locker room and became his friend because she couldn’t deny how well they got along. And each time one of those surprising events happened Draco had been startled by the relief that washed over him at the sight of her.

She had never made anything easy for him but Ginny had always bore the weight of his hardships with him, whether she wanted to or not.

And now, standing before her and feeling that familiar relief come over him, he wondered why he hadn’t realized the great potential between them before, if he only got over his fear of ruining everything. His hand twitched at his side as he fought the urge to brush some of the wet curls from her face. Draco noticed her eyes dart down to his hand before returning to meet his stare.

“Draco?” Ginny finally addressed him.

The way his name fell from her lips, curious and unsure, sent his heart racing.

“What are you doing here?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop himself from grabbing onto her wrist to tug her closer, an action that reminded him of her. How many times had she done that?

“You invited me,” Draco told her.

She frowned.

“No, I didn’t,” Ginny said, not unkindly.

“After the dinner two weeks ago?” 

Shaking her head, Ginny looked about ready to laugh, whether in frustration or uncertainty, Draco wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her the truth, that Granger had told Blaise that Draco should come to the dinner. He honestly wasn’t sure the appropriate way to go about it. And if Ginny was upset at his unexpected arrival… Draco for once didn’t want to get Granger in trouble.

“I assumed I had a standing invitation,” Draco continued, trying to smirk despite the wobble in his voice.

“I see,” she said softly, brushing away the curl from her face that Draco had been eyeing earlier.

Then Ginny let out a long breath that made her look silly, her cheeks puffing out slightly. Some of the tension seemed to leave her and a small grin curled on her lips as she looked him over. Her eyes caught sight of the faded Dark Mark on his arm and then she looked up at him, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. Draco knew she had seen it before, likely in the locker room while they changed, but he never studied her reaction.

And there wasn’t enough of a reaction for him to make a conclusion. Other than her eyebrows twitching, she seemed unconcerned with it.

“Your mother wanted me to remind you about the basket of apples,” he said to break the silence.

“Oh, shit, I forgot them,” Ginny cursed. Then she laughed, “Want to walk to the orchards with me?”

His face felt like it split in half from the size of his smile and he fought to contain it before giving up. What happened to cool and collected?

“Yes, I suppose,” he responded.

“Draco? Wasn’t expecting you to return after the other week.”

Draco blinked, broken from the spell that was Ginny, and turned to see that Bill and his wife, the champion from Beauxbatons, were approaching. They must’ve been at the pond with Ginny, except walking back at a slower pace. In the wife’s arms was Louis, the toddler who had fallen asleep in his highchair at the last dinner.

Bill clapped Draco on the shoulder and spun him for his wife to see.

“Fleur, this Draco. Draco, Fleur. I had been telling you about him.”

“Ah, yes, ze Malfoy.”

Fleur smiled beautifully in greeting despite the caution that stained her face. 

“We’re going to the orchards, I forgot the apples,” Ginny cut in, before anymore conversation could continue. 

“Dinner will be ready soon, Gin,” Bill warned as he continued towards the house.

Ginny nodded without interest and walked away. Draco followed. After a minute of silence, she turned around and walked backwards, as if she wanted to keep a proper eye on him. He licked his dry lips and wondered what to say. Once again, Ginny beat him to it.

“I hadn’t thought you’d want to come back and do dinner with us.”

The blunt statement caught him off guard. For once, the truth left his lips with little hesitation.

“You’d thought I wouldn’t want to see you? After not hearing anything from you for over a week?”

She stumbled slightly in her step, clearly surprised by his response. A lovely, warm blush worked its way up her neck, coloring her skin.

He sighed, hating this awkwardness between them. Draco and Ginny had been numerous things over the many years they had known each other but awkward with each other they had not been. Deep down, Draco knew he had to be the one to start this, to say the words he dreaded. 

It was his pride that held him back from so much; asking for help, apologizing, admitting defeat. He supposed it shouldn’t surprise him that Ginny was the one who tested all these faults of his.

“I hadn’t meant to react so… poorly that night,” Draco admitted. “I didn’t invite you over to watch Teddy. I had invited you over because—”

He lowered his eyes and shook his head. Because what? Despite telling himself he wouldn’t see her for a long while, so he could manage his feelings and thoughts better, he had become half desperate for her to be with him? That bloody Pansy had asked him why he wasn’t dating Ginny Weasley and he couldn’t come up with a good answer? Because he had dreamt of her the night before he invited her to the manor and then every night after she had left? And, worse yet, they hadn’t all been sex dreams; he had dreamt of her laughter, of her flying beside him, of her snatching the Daily Prophet from his hands in the morning. Draco wasn’t sure what was worse for their friendship; the sex dreams or the normal ones.

It was harder than he wanted it to be to talk to her about this. Despite the thoughts having been constant in his mind the past week and a half, ever since she left, they struggled to form now.

“Why haven’t you responded to my owls?”

Draco looked up as he spoke and blanched. He reacted as quickly as he could, reaching out to grab Ginny and stop her. But he was too late. Ginny, who had still been walking backwards, hadn’t noticed the low hanging tree branch behind her. She walked into it with no warning, except his hand reaching out to stop her. Small, white flowers that had decorated the branches showered down on her, akin to snow. As Ginny sputtered angrily, pushing her hair from her face, Draco couldn’t help but tilt his head in appreciation.

Ah, of course, now she looked even lovelier, with white pedals caught in her bright hair. 

Ginny hopped away from the tree, pulling her strands of hair that got caught in some of the smaller branches out, before glancing up at Draco. Her face was bright red, comparing almost to her idiot brother’s whenever Draco got a rise out of him. 

“Such a mess, Weasley,” he murmured, pulling one of the flowers from her locks.

She stared at him in surprise and he faltered, wondering if she had heard the note of affection in his voice.

“I tried to warn you.” He waved at the tree awkwardly. “I was distracted.”

“Me too,” she answered slowly. “Look, Draco, I—I should’ve read your owls. And I shouldn’t have left so angry that day. I just, I needed, ugh, I needed a little break.”

What? A break? From him?

“Why?”

The one word came out harsher than he wanted but if she noticed she didn’t care.

“I was clearly getting in your way,” Ginny muttered, starting to walk again, facing the proper way this time.

Draco caught up with her in three long strides. He needed to see her face. If this was it, if she told him different than he hoped, he needed to see her expressions to know it was true.

“In my way?” Draco repeated. “Ginny, you’re always in my way. It’s what I like about you.”

Ginny stopped in her tracks, staring at him.

“Your date with Greengrass…” she trailed off, her eyebrows lifting high.

It was clear that she was waiting for him to finish her sentence. If Draco listened hard enough, he’d notice that she had stopped breathing, opting to hold her breath instead. But he was too lost in his own thoughts, too lost in the sweeping relief that came to him at her words.

“I’m not dating her. I haven’t been for ages.”

She released her breath in a rush and a sudden realization came to Draco; she was as relieved as him to be together. A sudden spark of confidence made his blood tingle and a smile came to his lips easily as they continued walking.

)*(*)*(

Something had changed between them as soon as Draco confirmed that he wasn’t dating Greengrass. It was abrupt and startling and so very welcome but, in some strange, twisted way, it was also terrifying. They continued on their way to the orchards, this time with Draco beside Ginny, but they didn’t speak.

He wasn’t dating Astoria. He had told her, just now, that he hadn’t invited her over that day to watch Teddy. She wanted to ask him more about it, to find out why he left, but it didn’t seem the right time. Because there was something dark in his eyes as they walked in silence, something heavy and curious and familiar. His eyes were the darker shade of gray they’d get whenever that odd look would color his face, the look that Ginny couldn’t read.

The look promised her something delicious if she allowed.

The trees of the orchard presented the pair with many apples. Knowing that her basket was full at the base of one of the trees, Ginny ignored the offerings and walked through the field. Draco had stepped behind her, his pace slowing, but Ginny hardly worried. Maybe without him right next to her she’d be able to think properly again.

He was here. Draco had come to dinner with her family because, if she read between the lines, he had wanted to see her. Sure, her mum had invited Draco to dinner last week but Ginny had never told him that. Somehow he had found out about the extended invitation and Ginny had a feeling she knew how. 

But it hardly mattered. Draco was here and he had only minutes ago casually told her that he had no relationship with Astoria. He wasn’t angry at her for not responding to his owls. He had apologized. 

The realization of it left her hands shaking. 

What did it mean? What did this all mean? 

If she was being honest with herself, Ginny knew what it meant. She knew what the burn of his eyes meant. She knew what his sudden honesty meant. She knew that the baring of his Dark Mark meant more than he let on. 

But she needed to hear it from him.

The basket appeared before her and she slowed her walk, taking several deep breaths. With a wave of her wand, the basket lifted off the ground and hovered in the air. Satisfied with her work, Ginny turned to see Draco strolling lazily towards her. And the question burst from her with little regard.

“What are you playing at, Malfoy?”

The words weren’t tainted with anger like she had wanted them to be. Instead, underneath her question, lay curiosity. She needed to know. Ginny needed to know what was going through that thick skull of his before the hope that was blooming within her took over, entrapping her in this state. She couldn’t handle disappointment, not again, not when she had convinced herself the past week that she had been wrong about what she was so sure she was right about.

It wasn’t clear to her if Draco picked up on the true emotion in her question for he was concentrating on choosing the perfect apple off a tree. Ginny watched him silently, her lips twitching into a slight frown as his long fingers went from one apple to another. Every time his fingers grazed the red skin of the fruit, the apple would bob slightly, dancing along with him. Then, suddenly, he wrapped his hand around one and plucked it from its’ home.

Draco turned to her coolly, a single eyebrow risen.

“What do you mean?”

Ginny licked her dry lips, eyes following his movements as she tried to find the right words. But she was captivated watching him walk through the orchard that she used to play in as a child. The fading sunlight brightened the grounds. When the light fell on Draco it simply highlighted his elegant features. Her eyes followed the apple as he lifted it and took a bite. Then she met his gaze and saw he had been watching her too.

A small smirk curled on his lips as he chewed.

“Coming here,” she whispered. “If you wanted to see me, there were other ways.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

“Who said I came here to see only you?” he questioned, but there was something teasing to his tone. “I rather enjoy Ron’s company.”

That had to be the first time he had ever said Ron’s name. She stepped back, arm brushing the floating basket. It drifted further to the side, spinning away from them.

“Or, perhaps, I wanted to make a bold statement,” Draco told her.

“Why?” she asked softly.

His smirk grew and he shrugged, taking another bite. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully, as if he too needed a moment to think over what he wanted to say. But Ginny had a feeling he was taking a moment on purpose, drawing out her hope, her anxiety—was she wrong? Did he not care? Was she reading too much into this situation as she had done last week? Or… or did he like her? Had the look he’d been giving her during their walk meant what she wanted it to mean? 

Warmth curled below her stomach as the thoughts raced through her mind. It didn’t help that he was walking towards her like a lion would its prey; tortuously slow, with a piercing stare. But she rather liked it, despite the dismay that hit her. Leaning back against one of the trees, Ginny tried to keep her breathing steady but it proved difficult. Her heartbeat was picking up the closer he got. Goosebumps were rising on her skin despite the heat as she watched the juice from the fruit wet his lips. The desire to be touched, by him, grew as his eyes darkened.

“I figured you’d know by now,” he murmured. 

He was close enough now that she could grab him if she wanted to. But her hands remained pressed against the bark. Ginny needed him to confirm her suspicions for her. After all this time of thinking he would never return her feelings, of ignoring what her body ached to do in the hope that she wouldn’t destroy what they had built, she needed Draco to let her know this was what he wanted too. Because if he was toying with her, playing off her emotions in some sick game, she would make him regret it.

But, when Draco stepped close enough that his warm breath fanned her face, Ginny understood for certain. This was no game to him. It didn’t make sense, not completely, but they were on the same page. Her hands tightened on the tree as he loomed over her.

Somehow, finally, they were on the same page. And she didn’t even care to find out how they both got there, not right now. 

“Know what?” she breathed.

The words had barely left her mouth before she heard the soft thud of the apple as he dropped it. His fingers were sticky as he wrapped them in her hair but she didn’t notice, her attention focused on grabbing his shirt to tug him closer. There was only a brief second of hesitation and it was then that heat flooded Ginny. She wasn’t sure if it was from their close proximity, closer than they had ever been before, or if it was from the realization that they were actually going to kiss if she only tilted her chin up but it was overwhelming and exciting nonetheless.

Then his lips met hers, warm and sweet and slightly sticky. Draco tasted familiar, sugary like the apples from her grove that she had enjoyed since she could remember, and it made her blood race. Ginny sighed against his lips, tugging him closer.

Draco’s body was flush against her own, solid and real. If she couldn’t feel the quick rise and fall of his chest against her own, she would certainly think this was a dream. But her senses were on overload, desperate to note every touch, every feeling, and she knew—this was real. This was happening.

It was Draco who pulled away first and she opened her eyes in surprise.

“Ginny,” he exhaled, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. “We’re okay with this, right?”

She nodded her head quickly.

“Yeah, yes, we are.”

Then she pulled him back towards her. Her body hummed, heat washing over her, drowning her, burning her, as their lips touched again. It was as dizzying as the first time she had flown a proper broom, the ground far below, dangerously far. If she fell now, she’d surely perish. So, as she did the first time she flew, Ginny clung to the only anchor she had.

Her hips rocked against Draco when his hands finally left her hair to explore. His touch was light but promised more, so much more. One of his hands pressed her closer to him, his touch scorching through her dress, while his other hand dipped low, stroking the firm muscle of her thigh, gripping it tightly before releasing it. When she moaned, the sound crawling up her throat, Draco took it as praise. Without releasing her lips, he hooked his hand under her thigh and lifted her up.

The bark of the tree scratched her back but Ginny couldn’t care as she wrapped her legs around his waist; the surprise of the heat pooling in her core, begging to be touched, _aching_ for more, distracted her from any pain. Draco’s lips left hers and despite the hot summer air, the light of the sun still coloring the ground, she felt cold. How odd. Ginny had always thought touching Draco, kissing him, would fill her with a delightful chill—like whenever she took a sip of cold water on a hot day and felt relief or when she’d jump in the pond, no matter the season, and her skin would prickle and her body would tense before relaxing—but no, no, it wasn’t like that at all.

He was fire disguised as ice, if that was at all possible. Draco left her wanting, half panting, ready to beg for him to come back. Beneath her fingers, his heart raced, alerting her that she wasn’t the only one affected by the kiss. The comprehension calmed her, made it easier for her to smile at him when all she wanted to do was order him closer. 

His eyes were stormy as they looked her over.

“Your mother’s calling us.”

The smile dropped off her face.

“What?”

“Your mother,” Draco inclined his head in the direction of the house. “You didn’t hear her?”

He sounded overly amused and more than a tad smug about this fact. Was he lying? But—oh, no, she could hear her mum’s voice in the distance, yelling that it was time for dinner. Ginny almost groaned. Of course, it was time for dinner. She shifted, momentarily forgetting how she was positioned against the tree.

But Draco’s low grunt reminded her. Settled in between her thighs, Ginny could easily distinguish how hard he was—everything about him, certainly, but one particular thing that she really should’ve noticed before. Perhaps the fact that his touch had been _melting_ gave her an excuse to not notice Draco’s obvious enjoyment of their caresses.

Without her needing to tell him, he lowered her to the ground. Her legs felt wobbly and the ground below her seemed unsteady. As suddenly as Draco had been all around her, Ginny now felt rather alone. But, after brushing out any wrinkles on her dress, she looked up and saw him watching her. There was a question in his eyes that hadn’t been there before and she wondered how to properly answer it.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

At her words, the question in his eyes disappeared. Ginny knew he wanted to ask more, saw him opening his mouth hesitantly, but a shout nearby stopped him. They looked to the side to see Percy stomping down the hill.

“Ginny! Did you not hear mum?”

He stopped when he saw that they had noticed him. His face was flushed and he glowered at them from his spot.

“Come on, then! Don’t forget the apples. Mum will kill both of us. Hell, you’ve only been down here for the past half hour, what could you both have been doing?”

His muttering disappeared with him as he climbed back up. Then Percy whipped around with a growl.

“Let’s go!” he shouted.

Ginny jumped to attention, sharing a small smile with Draco before they raced after her brother. The basket followed her obediently.

She felt incredibly light as she headed back to the Burrow.

)*(*)*(

Dinner seemed like a ridiculous affair after everything that had happened out at the apple grove but Ginny didn’t have the option of grabbing Draco and leaving. No, that would make everyone at the table suspicious, especially her brothers. Ginny had a feeling that Bill and George were already suspicious, if only for the fact that they had sent Percy, the most oblivious brother other than Ron, to go grab the pair. 

But Draco was warm beside her as they ate with her family. She wondered, briefly, if she had always been so sensitive to Draco; Ginny felt like she could sense every move he made, could feel the heat radiate from his body like never before, could pick up on his breathing despite it being so soft. Randomly she thought of reaching under the table, touching his thigh, grabbing his free hand, anything to get a reaction—all she wanted was a reminder that the kiss in the orchards had actually happened.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it, however. Harry was sitting at the table beside Angelina, having shown up to dinner for once, and was recounting some of the more humorous stories about training the new Aurors. If Harry thought it odd that Draco was seated beside Ginny at the table, making his presence known in the group for the second time in two weeks, he didn’t comment on it. His emerald eyes did linger on Ginny for a moment, though, questioning but kind, but nothing more came from it.

Even if it weren’t for Harry, George had decided to take the seat on the other side of Draco and constantly kept him in conversation. Beside Ginny was Hermione, for which Ginny was thankful; they could share conversation under the noise of the group. Rose sat at her mother’s other side, devastated that she didn’t get to sit next to her new favorite ‘uncle’. Ron sat by Harry, his glower becoming a familiar sight. Bill had a knowing look in his eyes whenever he looked over at her end and Percy was still randomly complaining about having to go get them, which drew even more attention to the fact that Draco and Ginny were away from the Burrow for so long. 

In the end, surrounded by so much family, Ginny could not take the time to convince herself that everything that had happened was real. She’d have to wait till dinner was done.

It was as George was yelling across the table to Arthur that Hermione leaned in close, whispering. On Ginny’s other side, Draco looked overly amused at whatever Angelina was attempting to tell him. Amused but oblivious, giving Ginny time to talk to her friend.

“Something’s different.”

Ginny looked at her sister-in-law and fought a grin. If they weren’t at the Burrow, if they were anywhere else and not with their insane family, Ginny would’ve already told Hermione about what had happened.

“This is the first time you’ve seen each other since his date?” Hermione asked softly, as Molly yelled for George to stop shouting.

“Apparently it wasn’t a date,” Ginny corrected as she lifted her glass to her lips to take a sip.

Hermione made a triumphant sound in her throat. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“He’s acting differently,” Hermione added, after Louis’ high pitched, tired screams pierced everyone’s ears. “He’s acting differently not just with you but with everyone.”

That much was certainly true, a wonder in itself. Ginny supposed it was lucky that Draco had already done dinner with her family, that they had already bickered over him and his right to sit at their table, for now hardly any of them spoke badly about him or his family throughout the meal. Ron was still glowering at him distrustfully whenever he remembered a Malfoy was present among them but he was the only one. And… she didn’t want to hope too much but Hermione’s words confirmed that she wasn’t the only one noticing Draco’s enjoyment with her brothers, their significant others, her parents.

Not only were they attempting to talk to him but he to them also. 

It was alarming and welcome and made her skin flush when she thought on it too long.

Ginny gave a slight nod that satisfied Hermione.

“How were the orchards?”

Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice, catching Draco’s attention. His eyebrows rose as she coughed beside him, and he patted her lightly on the back.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. 

He smirked.

Draco looked back to Bill, who must’ve been talking to him. Ginny turned narrowed eyes to Hermione, who was smothering her laughter with a napkin. Honestly, Ginny knew it had to have been Hermione who somehow got Draco to this dinner tonight but that didn’t mean she wasn’t an evil wench sometimes. A smile tugged at her lips once her face cooled and she knocked her elbow against Hermione’s.

“You’re evil. Remember when I told Rose that? Evil.”

Hermione shrugged innocently.

“You’ve flowers in your hair,” she noticed, reaching over and plucking a white petal from Ginny’s locks.

Her cheeks flushed again. That had absolutely nothing to do with what happened in the groves between her and Draco. Hermione’s mischievous gaze warned her that she thought otherwise, however. Ginny reached over, attempting to snatch the petal from Hermione’s grasp.

“I rather like them.”

Draco’s voice startled Ginny and Hermione, who both whipped around to look at him. His smirk was sharp and Ginny wondered if he had been listening to them the whole time. She had a feeling he had been. Lifting her hand to cover her smile, Ginny glanced at Hermione, whose lips were pressed together to hide her own amusement at being caught.

“Like what?”

Ron’s voice was loud across the table. Ginny let out a groan that made Hermione start laughing.

“He’s talking about the flowers in Ginny’s hair,” Hermione responded. “Is he not allowed to like things?”

“You’d look lovely with them in your hair, too, Weasley,” Draco added lightly before taking a bite of his food.

Bill snorted as he took a sip of water, making the children burst into laughter. George’s grin was wicked. Ron’s face, unsurprisingly, turned a deep maroon. 

“You’ve no right to be here—”

“Stop it, Ron, he’s teasing,” Hermione said.

“Yes, _Ron_ , I’m just _teasing_ ,” Draco echoed.

Harry’s eyes went comically wide and he seized Ron’s arm at the perfect time, for her brother instantly went to grab his wand. Ginny elbowed Draco in the side, earning her an innocent shrug from him. Arthur’s gaze went from Harry and Ron, Harry attempting to keep control while Ron growled in rage, to Draco and Ginny, who were grinning at each other. 

“Stop it, boys, you’re far too old for this fighting,” Molly ordered. She pointed the wooden spoon she held at Draco. “You’re included in this, Draco. I won’t have these fights anymore.”

“They’re hardly fighting, mum,” Bill said.

“Then what would you call it?” Angelina asked, leaning her chin in her hand as she looked to Bill.

He shrugged.

“They’re learning how to get along.”

Draco looked as horrified as Ron and Ginny had to bite her lip to keep from laughing along with everyone else.

After what felt like an eternity of sneaked glances and sly smiles that made her skin tingle, dinner was over and the family began their goodbyes. Unlike the last dinner Draco had attended everyone seemed content to linger. Rose had fallen asleep in Molly’s arms after desserts. Fleur paced with Louis in her arms in front of the low fire that Arthur and Molly kept burning despite it being the middle of summer. Percy and Audrey entertained Victoire in the front yard, chasing fireflies and pointing out the various stars.

It was _nice_. 

That was the first word that came to mind when Ginny thought of this meal with her family, of everyone still staying at the Burrow despite the meal being done. If only Charlie could come in more often from Romania for events like this. If only Fred were still here to join. 

She shivered slightly and saw Draco glance over at her.

The past week and a half had been overly stressful for her, dragging her through a range of emotions that she hadn’t felt in a long while, and certainly not all at once. Now that it was over, now that she had Draco beside her, it was easy to look back and think of how she should’ve simply read his letters or told him what was bothering her. But there was still plenty left unsaid between them.

Ginny briefly envisioned them together after this, speaking till the fire in the hearth died at his manor. The vision was quickly replaced with another, of them finishing what they started in the orchards, of her thirst finally being quenched. 

Draco seemed to know what she was thinking, his lips tugging down slightly as his hand twitched at his side. She had begun to think it was a give of his, the flexing of his hand. And Ginny could only hope she was right when she thought it meant he was holding himself back from something—from what, she wasn’t sure. Tilting her head, Ginny leaned against the railing on her front patio. His eyes followed her every move.

“Are we going to stay here all night with your brothers?” he inquired teasingly.

If anyone were trying to listen, it was likely they wouldn’t hear a thing. There was a warm breeze that carried his words towards her then away. Victoire’s loud giggles, along with Percy’s random shouts and Audrey’s light singing as the trio ran around the front yard, would’ve drowned out everything else either way. 

“Hmm? You don’t want to?” she replied. “What else do you have in mind?”

One of his light eyebrows rose.

“You misunderstand me. I’d much prefer staying here with your family.”

Ginny laughed out loud, reaching over and shoving Draco. He barely moved but the smirk that curled on his lips was visible even in the dark. 

“I’m happy you’ve been enjoying your time with Ron, Harry, and Hermione.”

“They’re the least of my worries.” 

“Who are you worried about, then?” 

Other than the famous trio, Draco was on perfectly safe grounds at the Burrow. 

“You,” he murmured.

The hair on the back of her neck rose. 

)*(*)*(

They used Floo to get back to Malfoy Manor, a fact that delighted the Weasley family more than Draco cared for. He had long ago made sure the Floo networks were connected from the manor to appropriate places and had been surprised to find that his mother had already made sure the manor and the Burrow were connected. Draco could only assume it was his aunt who pushed for that, because Draco knew Narcissa wouldn’t be the first to suggest it.

His skin flushed pleasantly once he arrived in the drawing room, knowing Ginny wasn’t far behind him. Their moment before dinner secured something in Draco’s mind that he hadn’t known he was looking for. She had wanted this for a long time, she had said. The idea of it, the idea that Ginny Weasley had been wanting _him_ for longer than he knew, left him itching to return to their previous position.

Snuggled in between her thighs. Her breath fast and warm against his face as she pulled him closer. Fingers wrapped in her damp curls. Inhaling the scent of her.

And Ginny had been willing—so very willing—to meet him when he approached her.

“Welcome home,” an amused voice drawled.

Draco hadn’t even noticed Pansy before him. She had her legs up on the table, crossed at the ankle, and she pursed her lips as she looked him over.

“It was a good dinner?” she asked.

Stepping forward, well aware that Ginny would be arriving any second, he gave a slight nod.

“Better than I expected.”

“Good. You owe me then.”

Pansy slid her legs off the table and stood up, stretching slightly. She looked more disheveled than normal but seemed in a better state than Draco had been after his first day with Teddy. When she reached him, she smoothed his shirt on his shoulder. 

“Flint abandon you so quickly?” Draco questioned.

She shrugged.

“Not as fond of children as he had hoped.” Her lip quirked up. “I didn’t mind too horribly. The boy is asleep, despite all the sugar Flint gave him to win him over, and… I’ll be off, then. Enjoy your night. Write me in the morning, will you?”

He couldn’t help but smirk back at her as she left the drawing room, likely heading to the front to leave through apparition. Pansy continued to be paranoid about having her Floo network connected to Malfoy Manor so she tended to Apparate. It was as he heard the distant click of his front door closing that the fire before him turned green. Draco turned his attention to the hearth as Ginny’s figure appeared and she stepped out.

A grin brightened her face as soon as she saw him.

“Mum was interrogating me a bit,” she said, breathlessly. “Bill had to step in and distract her with Victoire—”

He barely heard her as he strode up to her. Draco didn’t realize he was reaching for her, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to pull her closer, or that she had already been drawing nearer, the words dying on her lips, before they were on each other. It was simply that one minute they had been separate and, in the blink of an eye, they weren’t.

Her lips were soft and hot and wet, sending a shock through him as soon as they brushed against his mouth. Just as he had in the orchard, he gripped the bottom of her thighs and lifted her. Ginny had always seemed tiny to him, small but strong, and he thought it again as he boosted her up for she hardly needed the assistance—her legs wrapped around his waist easily, keeping her firmly in place as he stumbled out of the drawing room.

Bedroom, bedroom, they needed to get to the bedroom.

But her lips were on his neck, biting gently, coercing deep moans from him, and they had barely made it down the corridor before he had her back pressed against the wall. She let out a breath of relief, her hands running through his hair, mimicking an action he had done hundreds of times before. Ginny’s touch was different, lighter, though her nails scratched his scalp whenever she wanted him closer.

“When?” he managed to grunt before her lips caught his again.

Draco didn’t need to say more. Ginny knew what he was asking, just as she knew what he was saying in the grove, when they realized they knew what they wanted, needed, at the same time. Leaning away from him, her loose curls cushioning her head against the wall, she took a shuddering breath.

“Ages. Beginning of training camp last season?”

Last season? His grip on her loosened in surprise, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as he stared at her with furrowed brows.

“Last season?” he repeated. 

Ginny tightened her arms around his neck, tugging him closer to the warm core between her thighs. There was something wild about the woman before him, something reckless and untamed and messy that Draco feared he could lose himself in.

“Focus, Draco,” she almost purred, lifting a hand to trace his jawline.

“I had no idea,” Draco confessed, the realization of what she said distracting him too much. “If my mother, if bloody Andromeda, if they hadn’t had me watch Teddy—”

Suddenly Ginny leaned away from him and dropped her legs to the ground. His grip on her had already been loose from his shock and she dropped to the ground easily. Ducking around him, Ginny tossed a look over her shoulder as she began down the corridor.

“You’ll have to thank them for me,” she said with a wink.

“Where are you going, Weasley?” 

Ginny turned around, light on her feet as she continued walking.

“If I leave it up to you, Malfoy, I fear we’ll never make it to your bedroom.”

She disappeared in the shadows as she headed to the staircase.

Malfoy. Her eyebrows rose when his name teasingly left her lips and he reacted to it, the same as he had back at Hogwarts when she’d spit it in disgust. Except now Ginny hardly sounded disgusted; if anything she was taunting him to follow her, still breathless from his touch. Except now, it wasn’t anger that made his body taut, no, it certainly wasn’t. Except now, he wasn’t chasing after her to duel her, no, no.

When she heard his footsteps coming after her, a burst of laughter filled the darkness. His lips twisted into a sharp grin as he took the stairs two at a time. The lanterns that adorned the walls hardly did their job, keeping the staircase and corridors particularly obscure. But Draco had grown up in this manor, could hear from the creak up ahead that Ginny had raced past Teddy’s room and was almost to Draco’s.

The idea that she knew her way through the manor without him made him only more eager to catch her, to find her, to show his appreciation.

Draco almost ran past Teddy’s room but stopped, heart hammering. He hadn’t seen the boy all day and, though he trusted Pansy, he opened the door quietly and checked in. Light from the stars filtered through the curtain, highlighting Teddy’s face, soft in his sleep. Shutting the door, Draco turned to find Ginny watching him from the doorway of his bedroom.

The laughter had left her. Her gaze was tender, affectionate, vulnerable as she studied him. Draco approached her slowly and when he got close enough to her that he had to bend his head to keep eye contact, she put out a hand to stop him. Ginny’s palm was warm on his chest and his heartbeat picked up. Could she feel that? Did she know what she was doing to him?

“When?” she whispered, parroting his question.

Draco closed his eyes briefly. _When?_ There wasn’t an exact moment, he supposed. Had he always liked her more than he knew but hadn’t thought it wise to examine his feelings? Was there a chance that, while he dated Astoria and found her lacking, he purposely spent more time with Ginny, unaware why? Did Pansy really plant the seed in his mind only two weeks ago? Had the seed grown so quickly, without any care, feeding off him and the ideas it brought?

His moment of silence brought a hesitancy to Ginny that he felt through her touch. Opening his eyes, he grabbed her hand to keep it captured against his chest. 

“I don’t know,” Draco responded honestly. “But it’s here. I’ve been a fool to not see it.”

Ginny frowned. Draco sighed, aware that his answer wasn’t one that pleased her. Lifting the hand he held, he pressed a soft kiss to her palm. The shiver that racked her body did not go unnoticed.

“I am not a risk taker,” he reminded her, releasing her hand.

He was a coward. A coward who had somehow caught the attention of the most fearless person he had ever met. 

“I would not jeopardize this if I did not think… you’re one of my few friends, Ginny, and I wouldn’t—I couldn’t ever have thought of this happening if I hadn’t—if Pansy hadn’t—she was the one who didn’t understand why we weren’t dating. And I never would’ve thought that _you’d_ come to care for me, as a friend, as a person, much less… anything more. I was blind to it. They said I’m horrible at reading women and I am, I suppose, because I had no idea. Since last season? Ginny, I had no idea. And if I had—maybe it’s best I hadn’t, maybe I wasn’t ready, but I am now if you are.”

Draco scowled as he stumbled over his words. When he focused on Ginny, the fire from his room outlining her, he noted that her eyes were piercing, her lips parted slightly. 

“I’m not poetic,” he continued, rambling in her silence. 

Her lips cracked into a smile that loosened the knot in his chest.

“I’m not looking for poetic.”

“Good,” Draco responded lightly, stepping closer to her. 

Relieved that she let him. 

“I figured you were poetic enough for the both of us.”

Her eyebrows furrowed at his words. The smirk came to his lips without warning as he began reciting what he could remember.

“Eyes as green as fresh pic—”

Ginny burst out into laughter before pulling him towards her. Her lips met his before he could finish quoting her old poem, the one that he had laughed over for weeks his second year, but he did not mind. Kicking the door shut behind him, Draco lost himself in everything that was Ginny once again.

The amusement, the teasing, the laughter, was gone but only because they were drowning in each other. Somehow they ended up on the bed, tugging off clothes on their way, desperate to remain connected, touching. When she pulled off her dress, he was exploring the soft skin now exposed, drawing her closer. As he fumbled to unbutton his shirt, half tempted to rip it open, her teeth were nipping at his ear lobe then the sensitive skin of his neck, earning sharp breaths from him.

Then they were naked before each other except for underwear but there was no time to stop, to admire, for there was a desperation in their touches that unwound him. 

Her caress was at ends with how heated her lips were; when her nails drug down his back, shivers followed. When she moaned, the sound so foreign to him though he had heard it many times from other women, goosebumps rose on his skin. As he drew her nipple in his mouth, a whimper escaped her that made him freeze.

“ _Draco_ ,” she gasped and he was moving again, brought back to life.

This was Ginny Weasley, his friend, his coworker, the daughter of a family he had been warned against since birth. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t, they should be talking about this more but—

But he could feel the heat from the center of her legs, hot and wet against his chest as he paid attention to her breasts, and none it mattered, did it? Not when she said she had wanted this for ages. Not when Ginny had met him halfway.

His tongue traced the constellation of freckles splattered across her stomach as he left her breasts for better things. Her fingers curled in his hair, tight then loose then tight again, as he kissed his way down her body. When Draco’s fingers hooked on her knickers, he paused, half anticipating her cry for him to stop. 

Maybe she didn’t want this. And though his erection was throbbing almost painfully, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should be putting a stop to this—

“What the hell are you doing, Draco?”

He looked up at Ginny to find she was propped up on her elbows, cheeks flushed, tongue moistening her bottom lip as she waited for his answer. Ginger locks fell over her shoulder, mussed and tangled, and, Merlin, he was such an idiot for not thinking about bringing this vixen into his room for this sooner.

“Seriously? Are you okay?” Ginny asked softly, using a hand to gently guide him back up to her face.

“Of course,” he replied haughtily as she pressed a tender kiss to his jaw.

His breath caught in his throat.

“Good, good, you had me worried,” she murmured before pushing him onto his back.

Draco’s ability to breathe left him as Ginny straddled him, mischief dancing in her brown depths as she leaned down to indulge him to the same treatment he had given her only a moment ago. There was no hesitancy to her actions and, _fuck_ , her touch made his muscles spasm and his cock twitch.

It was a dance they took part in, kissing, licking, touching, before returning the favor, each going further, until finally there was no clothing restricting either of them. Ginny was hot and ready, her voice pitching higher the longer he drew out the inevitable, and when he finally entered her, _finally finally finally_ , his arms were shaking. Draco wished he was composed, wished he could seem in control, but it was almost a relief to lose himself in Ginny’s moans, whimpers, sighs. She urged him on as he thrust into her, her legs wrapped around him to keep him close, her hands moving constantly over his body as if she couldn’t find the perfect spot to hold onto.

It was over far too soon—and it was completely Draco’s fault. How was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to know the night would end like this? How was he supposed to know that the sounds that escaped Ginny when he entered her would make him weak? He didn’t know, he didn’t, and as he fought to catch his breath, to apologize for his cock and its inability to last long enough for her to reach her peak, he found she was grinning.

He had to look away when he collapsed beside her. Draco could feel her gaze but couldn’t look at her, not yet. 

“I’m sorry,” he panted, his hand pressed against his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

Chills still racked his body, making it hard to concentrate.

“Too fast, too fast. Next time, I promise. All about you.”

She laughed and it sounded like magic as he turned to catch her eyes. Ginny hardly looked disappointed. If anything, she looked the opposite; her eyes were dancing, hooded, and her body was flushed pleasantly.

“You’ve been apologizing a lot recently,” Ginny teased, reaching out to brush some of his blonde strands from his face. “I have high confidence in you, Draco.” 

Her touch still sent shocks through his body and before he knew what he was doing he was over top of her again, caging her in, his hands on either side of her face. Ginny’s eyebrows rose.

“So soon?” 

The smirk that curled on his lips was dangerous and he knew it, could tell by the way her body tensed slightly.

“All about you,” he promised.

Ginny laughed again, a short laugh that showed she thought he was joking, but as he kissed his way down her body the laughter became throaty, her body melting back into the bed. 

“You don’t have to,” Draco thought he heard her whisper but he paid no attention to it, instead distracted by the salty taste of her skin, the moans that erupted from her as he worked his way down.

Then his lips found her core, pulsing and hot and _ready_ , and he lost himself in her.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter to write, though certainly my most challenging! Hope you enjoy!


	7. Chapter Seven

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Love:

 _Noun_ | \ˈləv\

1\. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

2\. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.

3\. sexual passion or desire.

4\. the insane feeling Ginny Weasley felt when with Draco Malfoy.

)*(*)*(

 **Four Months Later** :

“Poor attempt at keeping ahold of the Quaffle this game, hmm?”

Despite the fact that he was mocking her, and the fact that Ginny did have trouble keeping a hold of the Quaffle (it was raining, for Merlin’s sake!), she couldn’t find the proper retort. Draco’s lips were pressed against the exposed skin of her neck and one of his hands was inching under her shirt, towards her breast. Impatience made her grind her hips against his. She linked her leg around his knee to tug him closer.

The warmth of his breath as he laughed against her skin made her shiver.

“You’re one to talk,” she gasped.

His free hand was tugging on the waistband of her pants, moving towards the button. Ginny could envision the path she wanted his hand to go; jerking her pants down, fingers brushing the sensitive skin hidden by the thin cloth of her knickers, teasing her, stroking her. Just the idea made her mouth go dry and she tried to shake herself from it.

“Seemed a bit distracted out there, Malfoy. Is this your record for the longest time it’s taken you to—ah—” Draco nipped at her earlobe and she had trouble finishing the sentence.

“Yes?”

“Capture the Snitch?”

Draco leaned back, his lips curled upwards.

“That’s not very nice, Weasley. I was attempting to keep an eye on you. I thought girlfriends normally liked that?”

Her back arched without permission when he tweaked her already hard nipple through her shirt. Ginny growled deep in her throat, slapping his hand away.

“Prat. I don’t need a babysitter. I need you to pay attention to the game.”

“You sound like the coaches. I don’t like that very much. Makes this less fun.”

“Practice season, Draco. Remember? The Chudley Cannons—”

“Are an absolute rubbish team who didn’t have a chance of winning this game, whether it was a real match up or not,” Draco finished coolly.

Ginny bit her lip to keep from grinning.

“Their Seeker almost knocked you off your broom. If it had been a real game… Either way, we’re trying to get to the playoffs this season, Draco. Get the League Cup for once. Eternal glory and all that. It’s sort of what we get paid to do.”

He stared at her blankly and her amusement broke through. Draco wasn’t wrong—the combined team practice with the Cannons was pretty much useless, since the Cannons were so rotten. But it helped both teams get ready for the real matchups come early spring. The Tornados were determined to get to the playoffs this year and win the League Cup.

Now, however, wasn’t the time to think of that. Practice was done. Draco’s body was hard and hot against her own. And she had to bite her tongue in order to not beg for him to continue touching her.  
When Draco seemed like he was about to respond, something sarcastic mostly likely, Ginny acted. It was natural for her to reach up and curl her fingers in his hair, pulling him back towards her. Draco moved easily, meeting her halfway, his lips warm against hers. She sighed into the kiss, relieved when his hand traced the length of her body. 

Despite the fact that his touch still made her hot all over, still made her heart race in anticipation, still made the breath leave her lungs, there was something so familiar about it that she couldn’t help but relax. Ginny had trouble remembering how she managed to survive last season, bantering with Draco as they changed in the locker room, a reasonable amount of space between them and nothing wicked in their gazes. She must’ve been on the edge of madness.

For now they had trouble remaining any distance apart, especially when changing. And it usually ended up like this; the bench of the locker room pressed into her back as Draco attempted to find the button to her pants. Their locker doors were left ajar, for they had hardly finished changing before they were on each other, glad to see the back of their last teammate as they walked out.

“I also know, for a fact,” she breathed in sharply as his fingers followed the route she had imagined earlier. “that you take this practice far too seriously to be watching me the whole time.”

He nodded slightly.

“There’s hardly a point, is there?” he murmured. “You’re the best Chaser on the team.”

She shifted against him and he went rigid at the unexpected movement. Raising her eyebrows, Ginny pursed her lips.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to these compliments.”

“You say that as though I never complimented you before!”

He sounded mildly outraged as his fingers traced the band of her knickers.

“You didn’t.”

Her voice was far too throaty as she lifted her hips to meet his touch.

“Of course, I did,” Draco responded, bending to press a kiss to the soft skin beside her hip. “I’ve told you many times that you have lovely breasts.”

She snorted.

“A perfect arse to cup, whenever I’m feeling daring. These freckles of yours--” His fingers traced some of the freckles on her upper thigh and goosebumps rose in place of his touch. “--pretty sure there’s some constellations here. Haven’t found them yet, I find myself too distracted whenever I begin looking.”

“You’ve called those freckles unsightly blemishes before,” Ginny reminded him, running her hand through his hair.

Whenever they left the locker room, the first thing Draco would do is make sure his hair was in place. He hated being in public if it was ever disheveled, which gave Ginny extra pleasure in messing it up. 

“Ah, I was a fool. Must you continue to remind me of my past mistakes?”

“Yes, how else will I keep you from acting out?”

He kissed the cloth of her underwear, far from the spot where she wanted his lips to caress, but her breath caught in her lungs nonetheless. Ginny recognized the feeling of his smirk against her skin.

“And those compliments were all times _after_ we had already shagged,” she muttered.

Draco looked up at her, a single eyebrow high on his forehead.

“Nevertheless, they were compliments.”

She smiled. Draco stared at her for a second before abandoning his post down below, keeping balance on the bench with his hand as he climbed back up her body. 

There were still so many days that Ginny couldn’t believe they were here, that the seed that had been planted when Draco first joined the Tornados had grown into _this_. How long she had wanted this. How long she had dreamt of this. How long she joked with Draco before watching him leave to go meet his mates, wanting to go with him, wishing she didn’t feel that way. 

“Gin, I—”

The sound of the locker room door opening cut Draco off.

“Okay, guys, it’s really sweet that you’re dating and all but, you know, everyone is outside waiting for you and I can’t keep making excuses that aren’t going to make George throw up.”

Ginny tilted her head backwards awkwardly and spotted Angelina standing in the locker room, her hand over her eyes as she spoke. The older witch shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“Forgot we were in Britain,” Draco said loudly.

“Yeah, I figured,” Angelina replied, amused. “Come on then.”

She watched as Angelina walked backwards, searched for the door handle with her free hand, then spun and left. Ginny looked back to Draco, who had yet to move from off of her.

“Where’d you think we were?”

“Romania. Seems like yesterday we were still training from dawn to dusk.”

“Romania was fun, wasn’t it?”

He glanced down at her, his eyes roving over her face as he smiled softly. Ginny still wasn’t used to this smile; the one that screamed of his affection for her. Yes, Draco’s touch was scorching and something she desired from the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep, but this new smile was one that left her truly breathless. Merlin, she had already liked Draco without knowing about this smile. She had never expected it.

And now Draco wore it as easily as he wore his smirk as he delivered a particularly cutting line, his wicked grin when he watched her across the room, knowing why she was pressing her thighs together and squirming in her seat, his slight frown as he worked out something silently. The subtle, gentle smile that decorated his face often now made Ginny feel wanted and right and loved. They hadn’t said it yet, the special three words, but it was how he made her feel.

“It was,” Draco agreed. “Let’s go see your family, then.”

He got off of her, helped her up with a tug of his hand, before grabbing what he needed from his locker and shutting it. They had been about to leave with their teammates, really they had been, when they shared an excited glance over their first game with another team that they had won. Then, well, they ended up snogging on the bench, thankful that they had taken so long to shower and change. Ginny mimicked his actions, grabbing her bag and wand before shutting her locker. Then she buttoned her pants, smoothed out her wild locks, and started towards the exit.

Unsurprisingly, Draco caught up with her easily as he ran a hand through his hair, putting all the strands back in place. She bit her bottom lip to hide her grin. 

Draco opened the locker room door and the momentary silence between them was disrupted by cheers and hollers. Ginny looked around at the group waiting for them. Sure, Draco had been right when he said it was her family here but there were others also. Andromeda, Teddy, Narcissa, Flint, Parkinson, Zabini… it was his family too. The practice had been open to the public and nearly everyone had shown up.

Ginny walked towards her mum and dad, who grabbed her in one giant hug. Then she was passed along to each brother, and each of their wives or girlfriends. She was most surprised to see Hermione among the group. 

“You won! Ginny, you looked absolutely amazing out there!” Hermione cried, wrapping her arms around Ginny.

“It was just a practice.” The older witch’s eyebrows rose and Ginny laughed. “But, yeah, it was awesome to win. I thought you’d be home with Hugo? I hadn’t been expecting you!”

Hermione waved her hand, dismissing the idea.

“I needed to get out of the house and my parents have been begging to watch the children. Ginny, your team looks much better. At least, that’s what Ron and George kept saying next to me. I know Quidditch, of course, but not nearly as well as they do. And you _won_! How exciting! Ah, someone’s waiting for you.”

Turning, Ginny saw Teddy behind her, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Once he noticed that he had her attention, he jumped up, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his head against her stomach. His hair turned ginger and she smiled, squatting so they were eyelevel. 

“Did you like the game?”

“I loved it! Ginny, you were _so good_! You were there and then, then, you were there! And you’d grab the Quaffle and go so fast! The Keeper had no idea—why don’t we play like that at little league? D’you think I should ask the coaches next season? I want to fly like you did. And Draco! Did you see him? When he saw the Snitch? You probably didn’t, you had just scored, but Ginny, I couldn’t even find him, he went so fast! The other Seeker had no idea, did she? Did she?”

Ginny laughed, shaking her head.

“I don’t think she did,” she agreed.

Teddy nodded happily.

“Ginny?”

“Yeah?”

Teddy leaned towards her, his voice lowering as he glanced around. She had a feeling he was looking for Draco. When he noticed that Draco was stuck in conversation with Angelina and George, he smiled.

“Guess what I brought?” he asked mischievously.

Her eyebrows twitched.

“What?”

Teddy, she realized, must’ve dropped a bag by his feet when he hugged her. Now he picked it up and opened it slowly, lifting it up so she could get a better view of the inside. Right away Ginny burst out into laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand to try to mute the sound to no luck. Draco looked over at the pair suspiciously.

“Where did you get this?”

“Aunt Narcissa showed it to me when I went to the manor yesterday,” he whispered, grinning. “Said she thought it was yours! But I knew it wasn’t. I didn’t tell her, though.”

This alone reminded Ginny that Teddy was the offspring of Remus and Tonks. She winked at him and his grin grew. 

“Well, we’ll have to show Draco then, won’t we?”

Teddy giggled.

Straightening, Ginny motioned for Teddy to put on what was in the bag. It was a lumpy, green jumper that fell to Teddy’s knees and a poorly made hat. Teddy’s red strands stuck out from under the hat, making Ginny laugh even more as she pushed them to the side for him. Then she lifted Teddy onto her hip and walked over to Draco. It was as if Draco could feel her presence, for he immediately turned around.

His jaw dropped.

“Your mother thought this was mine,” Ginny told him cheekily.

Ginny smiled from Draco to Teddy, then froze. For the first time ever, Teddy’s locks weren’t ginger or black or brown or teal. They were a white blonde that was startlingly similar to the man across from her. Teddy held his arms up, showing off the jumper he wore, clueless to the fact that his hair had changed colors.

“You made this, Draco!” Teddy told him, laughing. 

“Did you knit those, Malfoy?” 

Angelina’s voice distracted both Draco and Ginny, reminding them of what Teddy was so happy about. Her heart squeezed as Draco attempted to find the right words. The first time Teddy’s hair had changed to match Ginny’s he had been so young; while still an honor, baby Teddy had simply enjoyed the funny faces she made. But only months ago Teddy had hated being around Draco and now… now his joy of being near Draco showed clearly.

“I told you he knitted,” Ginny said to Angelina, once she regained her ability to speak.

Draco glanced back at her, looking torn between several emotions. In the end, that same soft smile curled on his lips and he let out a sigh.

“Yes,” he admitted slowly. “I knit those.”

George’s laugh sounded like a snort as he attempted to cover it. Angelina was looking at Teddy with her head tilted. Hermione walked up behind Ginny and Teddy, coming to stand next to Draco. He looked down at her briefly, eyebrows furrowed, before looking back to Teddy and Ginny.

“It’s not too bad,” Hermione told him.

“Looks like what Hermione’s did in fourth year,” Ron gleefully pointed out.

“The jumper too? You knit that?” Angelina questioned.

Draco nodded.

“Hmm. I never would’ve believed Ginny.”

Ginny grinned in triumph and gave Teddy a light squeeze in thanks. 

“I had thought it was Ginevra’s,” Ginny heard Narcissa admit to Andromeda. “Draco’s rather talented, though, isn’t he?”

She glanced at the two women, unsurprised to see that they stood off to the side. Andromeda gave her sister a grimace.

“Eh, sort of, yeah,” she answered quickly. “It fits Teddy well, at least!”

“Could fit a house-elf too,” Parkinson muttered.

Marcus laughed his strange, chortling laugh.

“I’ll have to tell Roger,” Angelina continued thoughtfully. “Are you going to knit us something for our birthdays?”

“No,” Draco answered shortly, his eyes still lingering on Teddy and his shockingly light hair.

“What about us? I’d like to add it to my mum’s collection of jumpers she’s made me,” George piped in. “Maybe a hat? Or gloves?”

“No.”

“Rose would like something from you,” Hermione told him. “She does prefer you so.”

Draco glanced over at Hermione, frowning slightly, before nodding.

“Rose can get something.”

“What! That’s not fair!” George cried dramatically.

“And Ginny,” Draco added, waving in Ginny’s direction.

She beamed.

“You’d treat your girlfriend to more gifts than us?” Bill asked, walking up and throwing his arm around Draco’s shoulders. “Unfair bias.”

“Don’t call Ginny _that_!” Ron begged, half whining at the term ‘girlfriend’.

“Well, they are dating, Ron,” her mum informed him briskly, shooting a warm smile at Draco. “Have been for months now.”

“Yeah, but they _might_ break up—”

“Unlikely, Weasley. I have to spend more time with them than you and I can truthfully inform you that they’re quite compatible,” Zabini butted in with an exaggerated sigh, as though it was his worst nightmare confirmed.

Ron groaned.

“Weren’t we heading to the pub?” Arthur asked curiously, stepping towards the group.

“Right! Alright, let’s go, guys! Leaky Cauldron, eh?” Bill called out.

Bill dropped his arm around Draco, motioning for everyone to start moving.

Some of the group began to walk away, headed by George, who happily skipped to the front. She was surprised to see that he stepped up to Flint and Pansy, muttering something that made both men smirk. Ginny forgot that George and Marcus had played Quidditch at Hogwarts together. Turning, lost in thought, Ginny noticed that Narcissa hadn’t moved, lingering beside Andromeda. Her mum was watching hesitantly and Ginny knew what was about to happen, her mouth going dry.

Molly walked up to Narcissa, twisting her hands in front of her.

“I hope you’ll join us for some drinks and food. To celebrate our children…” Molly trailed off before lifting her chin, almost defiantly. “Your son… is a welcome part of our family. You should know—I’d like you to know that.”

A tense moment passed before Narcissa inclined her head slightly, her face portraying nothing. There weren’t many times that Ginny’s parents and Draco’s mother found themselves in each other’s company. The pair had done well with keeping everyone separated. But with the next Quidditch season approaching, and the fact that Draco and Ginny were spending more and more time together, Ginny knew it was time for the three adults to learn to be around each other. Her heart swelled and she fought the temptation to hug her mum; she wasn’t surprised that Molly had taken the first step, for she cared about Draco more than Ginny would ever have imagined possible.

Molly and Arthur shared a feeble smile before heading after the rest of the group. Draco glanced at his mother.

It was odd, Ginny knew, that she could almost understand the conversation happening silently between Narcissa and Draco. Before, back at Hogwarts, Ginny could never read Draco. He had been an absolute mystery. But now, after learning his quirks and his tells, she thought she knew what he was thinking—it was something he had whispered to her one night as they sipped wine by his fire. Half tipsy, tired from shagging, they had shared secrets with each other. 

_My mother felt like after my father went to Azkaban that we’d never be a proper family again. When she left Teddy with me, she had… she had told me she wanted us to be a family again. I hadn’t thought I needed a new family. But now…_

She could remember the glow of the fire on his face as he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence. Because Ginny knew. They had created a family over the summer, a new family, an unexpected family.

And it was quite a large family. The Weasleys had more than accepted Draco over the last few months, sometimes clear disappointment showing when he couldn’t go to the weekly Friday dinner. Pansy, Zabini, and Flint often joined Draco and Ginny for meals, accepting her into the fold as though she had been there all along. 

And now she stood across from Draco with Teddy clinging to her, the boy smiling and laughing as he lowered and lifted his arms to show off the jumper. 

Narcissa’s light eyes left Draco’s, gazing at the few people left near them before eyeing the group that was walking away. She gave a small, silent nod and walked briskly after the other group, Zabini and Andromeda in tow. Zabini gave an obnoxious wink and Andromeda flashed them a quick smile.

Draco turned to Ginny and Teddy. He reached out without thought then, his fingers brushing Teddy’s hair. Teddy wiggled a bit, motioning that he wanted to be put down. When his feet touched the ground, he ran after his grandmother.

“Is she upset?” Ginny asked, taking a hold of Draco’s hand.

“I think she’s rather on your idiot brother’s page,” Draco admitted. “Didn’t expect to come home from vacation to find us playing house at the manor. Thought we’d break up as soon as Teddy went back with Andromeda.”

But they hadn’t. 

Her heart squeezed tight. Draco smirked, tugging her closer.

“Did you see his hair?” he whispered in her ear. 

Ginny stepped away. Laughter spilled from her lips at the excitement painted across his features.

“Yeah, yeah, I did.”

“Better be ready, Weasley, his hair will never go ginger again while I’m around.”

“You wish!”

They began their walk after the group in brief silence.

“You think he missed us?” Draco mused after a moment.

“Well, we were off training for a while… Did you miss him?”

It was a simple question for anyone other than Draco. When Andromeda and Narcissa had finally arrived home, Draco had seemed almost relieved to lose custody of Teddy. Ginny had been worried by his relief, of course, but then she found he was rather intent on shagging her anywhere possible. Without a child around, his touch was more frequent, sliding up her thigh, at her waistband, pulling her closer.

But Draco had continued waking up early every morning, Ginny knew, to check on Teddy, even when the boy wasn’t there. He continued planning their events out before realizing they didn’t have anyone to entertain but themselves. Draco would randomly admit how much he missed watching Teddy’s games—the season was over but it was something he associated with the child. When they’d do dinner at the Burrow, now joined by Andromeda and Teddy, Draco was almost always with him.

So when she asked if he missed Teddy, Ginny already knew the answer. But she honestly hadn’t expected him to respond so quickly.

“Of course,” Draco replied, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. 

Standing on her tip toes, Ginny didn’t have to tug Draco to her. He lowered his head on instinct, meeting her lips without question. Warmth flooded her, as it always did, making her toes curl in her shoes. When she leaned back, he was giving her that soft smile she adored.

“Family time?” she asked gently, nodding towards the group that was beginning to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Indeed,” he murmured back, pushing her hair from her face, his eyes gentle.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Sorry for the late update-- work was horrible recently-- but thank you so much for following this story with me. I hope you all enjoyed it :)

**Author's Note:**

> Charlie's Prompt #2  
> Basic Premise: Somehow, against all odds, they've become friends. He knows nothing about children, and when he ends up with Teddy for the summer, he turns to her for help.  
> Must Haves: Secretly (or not-so-secretly) pining Ginny, Oblivious Draco  
> No-Nos: Dark/Sad, Scat, Blood, HG/SS Side Pairing, HG/LM Side Pairing  
> Rating Range: Any  
> Bonus Points: A kitchen-related "disaster"; Smut


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